For Now
by Eileen
Summary: Kamen Rider Dragon Knight. No longer even remotely following show continuity. Think of this as the KRDK sitcom. Chapter 38: the long-awaited conclusion of the season finale, tying up some of the loose ends the series left behind. Look for Season Two soon!
1. For Now

For Now

_(Disclaimer: all characters and situations are the property of Saban Entertainment/CW4Kids.)_

_(Author's Note: Thanks to Crimson-Curved, who posted hir own version of this moment just as it was coming together in my head, and convinced me to go for it. Hope you like it!)_

For a moment, when he first opens his eyes, Len isn't quite sure where he is. Then he remembers: this is Kit's house. They came back here after the fight with . . . who was it? He can't remember right now. Then when Kit went out, Len fell asleep on the couch.

How long has he been out? Judging by the light coming through the window blinds, late afternoon. Maybe four, four-thirty. He should get moving.

He sits up and catches sight of a framed photograph of a young Kit with his father. He looks at it a long time, knowing what it's like to have someone who means everything in the world to you . . . and then lose them.

As he swings his legs over the side of the couch, he almost steps on Kit, who's stretched out on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Len's jacket is spread over him like a blanket, and Len thinks, _Didn't I have that when I went to sleep?_ For that matter, when did the kid come home?

Len reaches down to grab it, and Kit stirs slightly. He looks for a substitute, but all he can find is a big green pillow, which he drops onto the sleeping Dragon Knight.

The phone rings as he shrugs into his jacket, and for a moment he considers picking it up. No, no time now. Let the machine pick it up. Besides, it's not his house.

He wishes he could stay, hang out a bit until Kit wakes up. They have so much to talk about, still. But, for now, it'll have to wait. Saving the world comes first.


	2. Maybe Not

I wake up alone, with no idea what time it is or what's been going on while I was asleep. What am I supposed to be doing? And why is there a pillow on top of me?

Len isn't on the couch. I call his name, thinking maybe he's in the bathroom or something. He doesn't answer, so I call him again.

He's gone out, hasn't he? Without even telling me. Damn! I'm so frustrated I kick the couch, like that'll help. Ow!

I sit down to think about what to do next.

Just when I thought I had this guy figured out, he goes and abandons me when I need him the most. Oh, I know he's out taking care of business. Because it's his job. But why couldn't he have waited for me first?

This whole thing just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Seeing that picture really freaked me out. It was like . . . I don't know . . . like finding out I did something I can't remember. I couldn't believe he looked exactly like me, that he was me, or at least a parallel-universe version of me.

Then I realized how much weirder it must be for Len. Every time he looks at me, all he sees is Adam.

Adam, who betrayed the other Kamen Riders.

No wonder he was so cold to me when we first met. No wonder he tried to take my deck away from me.

He didn't want to lose the same person twice.

I've been sitting here long enough. It's time to get out there and find him. Maybe he'll give me some answers. Maybe not. All I know is, I'll never learn anything just sitting here.

I grab my jacket and head out.


	3. Promise

Len was sitting on the couch, looking at the photograph of himself and Adam, when Kit came through the door. "Hey," he said.

The older man looked up. "Hey. How'd it go?"

'Okay." He sat down beside Len and glanced at the picture. "You really miss him, don't you?"

Len nodded. "Yeah. We . . . we were really close."

Kit wanted to ask a million questions about the stranger with his own face. What was he like? Did he have any family? What were his favorite hobbies, favorite foods? And, most importantly, why did he betray the other Kamen Riders, and did Len have any idea what was going on?

He knew, though, that Len wasn't ready to talk about Adam yet. But there was one thing that Kit did want to know. "Len?"

"Yeah?"

"You said all the Kamen Riders on Ventara had duplicates here on Earth, right?"

"Yeah." Len nodded, wondering what the kid was getting at.

"So . . . where's yours?"

"I don't know." Len glanced up and out of the window. "Somewhere out there, I guess." His face became serious. "Kit, I want you to promise me something."

"Sure. What?"

"If something happens to me--"

"Nothing's gonna happen to you. I got your back, okay?"

"If something happens to me," Len repeated, "I want you to take my deck and find him. Promise me you'll do that."

"Yeah, okay," Kit said, "but--"

"Promise me, Kit."

"Okay. I promise."

"You have to get to him before Xaviax does, or else all is lost."

"I will."

"Good."

Kit decided to change the subject, lighten the mood. "Hey, I think there's still someo chocolate pudding left. Want some?"

"Okay."

Len didn't really like chocolate pudding--something about the texture put him off--but he could see that Kit was just trying to cheer him up. He put the photo back in his pocket and went to the kitchen.


	4. I'll Be Here

_(Author's Note: Slight correction on the disclaimer: glo-unit informs me that Adness Entertainment is the one who owns KRDK, so thanks for the info! _

_I'm open to any suggestions my readers have for where this story should go, so let me know if there's something you want to see!)_

* * *

"I'm back." Kit closed the door behind him and put the plastic grocery bags down on the coffee table. "How are you feeling?"

"Lousy." Len was lying on the couch, a blanket spread over him. He'd been there all day, too sick to move.

"Yeah, well, the flu will do that to you."

"Did you get the stuff?"

"I got the stuff. I got a lot of stuff." He sat down and began unpacking the bags. "Soup. Ginger ale. Cherry cough drops." He tossed them over. "Three boxes of tissues--don't use them all at once this time."

Len just rolled his eyes.

"And the most important thing: non-drowsy extra-strength cold and flu medication. I got the biggest bottle they had."

"Won't work."

"What do you mean? It has to work! The guy told me it would!"

"No, I meant the 'non-drowsy' part. Medicine always puts me to sleep. The last time I took non-drowsy medication, I was out for a day and a half."

Kit just shrugged. "Maybe you need the rest."

"Didn't you get any popsicles?"

"I couldn't carry them and all the other stuff. I'll get them next time I go out."

"Can't wait to leave me, huh?" Len sighed, which sent him into a coughing fit. Kit cracked open one of the cans of ginger ale and slid it across the table.

"Thanks." Len drank half of it in one gulp. The coldness of it soothed his raw and burning throat.

"I think you should take that medicine now."

"Not yet. I'm not ready to go to sleep yet."

"You sound like you need it."

"I'll decide what I need when I need it."

"Whoa! You sure are grumpy when you're sick."

"I feel like crud, I have a right to be grumpy." He drank some more ginger ale, thinking of how . . . familiar this all felt. Haven't we been here before?

"I just want to help."

"I can take care of myself, thanks."

"Nice try. You can't even stand up right now."

Well, that was true, though Len refused to admit it. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Hovering over me like . . ."

Kit waited for him to finish the sentence, but the words never came. "Because we're a team," he said at last. "We look out for each other. Besides, it's not as if you've got anyone else to look after you. Face it, Wing Nut, I'm all you've got."

"What did you call me?" Len sat up, convinced he couldn't have possibly heard what he thought he had heard.

"Uh . . . Wing Knight?"

"Oh. Sorry, I thought . . . never mind. I think I'm starting to hallucinate."

"Ready for the medicine now?"

"Yeah, I think so." It had to be the fever doing this, blurring the line between past and present, making him think he heard Adam's old nickname for him. Pretty soon he wouldn't know who he was talking to, Kit or Adam.

Kit cracked open the medicine bottle and poured it into the little dosage cup, then handed it over. "Bombs away."

"It probably tastes disgusting."

"What are you, five?" Kit said with a teasing smile. "Come on. Down the hatch."

Len just stared at the tiny plastic cup full of red liquid. As much as he knew he needed it, he could not will himself to put the cup to his lips and drink.

"Do you want me to sing?" Kit asked.

The words made Len sit up and take notice. Was this real, or . . .? "Say that again."

"I said, do you want me to sing? Would it help?"

Len let out a chuckle that turned into a coughing fit. "He used to do that."

"Who? Adam?"

Len smiled as he remembered better days. "He used to do the same thing you are, fuss over me whenever I got sick. When I wouldn't take my medicine, he would . . . he would sing annoying songs over and over."

"Really?"

"I wanted to kill him."

"I promise I won't do that," Kit said. "I was thinking of when I was little, and my mom used to sing me to sleep. I know it's silly, but . . ."

"Just don't annoy me," Len said, "and we have a deal."

He swallowed the cupful of liquid ick and made a face. "That was awful."

"Let's just hope it works. Do you need another blanket?"

"No."

"Some more pillows? Anything?"

"Just . . ." He was starting to feel sleepy already; that stuff sure worked fast. "Just don't leave me, okay? Don't leave me alone."

"I won't," Kit said. "I'll be here when you wake up, I promise."

"Okay." Len lay back and closed his eyes.

This was one of those things, Kit knew, that they wouldn't talk about when Len was feeling better. He sat back and began the song that had always brought him comfort, and peace.

"Let me take you down, cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields . . ."

By the end of the second chorus, Len was already asleep. Kit straightened the blankets over him and thought how young he looked when he was asleep. As if all the troubles that worried him so much when he was awake had just melted away.

He sat there watching Len sleep for a while longer, and then his cell phone rang. Quickly he got up and went into the bathroom, shutting the door.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Maya. No, I . . . I can't right now. Well . . . Len's sick, and I promised him I'd stay with him. Yeah, sure you can come over. Do I need anything?" He looked up for a second and smiled. "Actually, yeah. Can you bring some popsicles?"


	5. Moments

After Chris Ramirez ran off in such a hurry, Maya went after him. "Let me talk to him," she said.

Kit started to go with her, but Len held him back. "No. We'll wait here."

"And do what?"

"Just be here. When they come back."

"What if they don't come back?"

"He'll be back," the older man said. "He's just scared. He'll get over it. You did."

"Yeah, that's right." The first time Kit had seen a Kamen Rider being vented, he had been terrified of the same thing happening to him--or worse, of having to do that to someone else. He had even tried to back out of the whole deal, only to have Len tell him that there was no going back now. The contract was unbreakable.

"We'll need to be here," Len said, "to teach him all of what he needs to know. He's heard nothing but lies so far. It's time he knew the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"If he comes back."

"He will."

They lapsed into an awkward silence, unsure what to do next.

"Want some more water?" Len said at last. "I think there's a couple more bottles in the fridge."

"No, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Silence again. They stared in opposite directions, unsure what to do next.

When Kit could no longer stand the tension, he said, "How did you know that Torque had been vented? Did you 'sense a disturbance in the Force,' Obi-Wan?"

Len just stared at him blankly. "What?"

"Oh, come on! Don't tell me you've never seen _Star Wars_."

"I haven't."

"We have **so** got to have a movie night," Kit said, shaking his head.

"Like we have time for that."

"I don't know. It was kinda fun hanging out together. Just . . . sitting and talking, like regular people."

"We're not regular people?"

"You know what I mean!" Kit wished Maya and Chris would come back soon. This was really awkward. "It was nice not to have to rush off to some crisis or another. There have been times when I've come home and I've literally had to turn around and go right back out again."

"At least you have a home to come to," Len said.

His saying that made Kit realize that Len had lost everything--his home, his team, whatever family he had had--and under the circumstances, Kit had no right to complain.

"I'm sorry, man. Geez, what a stupid thing to say."

"Don't worry about it."

"I want you to know that you can stay here as long as you need to. Anything I can do for you--"

"Thanks." There was the ghost of a smile on Len's face.

Silence again.

"What do you think it feels like?" Kit said suddenly.

"What what feels like?"

"Being vented."

"I wouldn't know."

"Do you think it hurts?"

Len took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "No," he said. "I think there's just . . . nothing. No feeling at all."

"That sounds worse than pain."

"I imagine it is."

"I hope I never have to find out."

"I hope so, too."

Suddenly there was the screeching metal sound of a portal opening. Len stood up. "Come on. Duty calls."

"But what about--?" Kit looked at the door.

"They'll find us. Let's go."

"Well, that didn't last very long." Kit grabbed his jacket and followed Len out the door, locking up behind himself.

It was these little moments he secretly enjoyed, these flashes of insight into his friend's personality. One day, he'd know everything he needed to know.

Until then, little moments were all they had.


	6. Comfort

He's been feeling it coming on for days, but tried to ignore the signs. The coughs and the sniffles are from dust. The tiredness and achiness is from not sleeping well. That's all it is. Nothing serious. He's not getting sick. He can't get sick. Kit Taylor does not have time right now to be sick.

Don't think he hasn't seen Len watching him, either. He just hasn't said anything about it. It's not until Kit is on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk, coughing hard enough to see spots before his eyes, that his friend and teammate finally takes action.

"We're going home," Len says. "Now."

"I'm . . . I'm fi--"

"Don't try to tell me you're fine. I know you've been sick for days now. Why didn't you say something?"

"I . . . I don't know."

"Look at me."

Kit raises his head, but his eyes have trouble focusing. He fixes his watery gaze on a spot he guesses approximates Len's face.

"We are going home," Len says slowly, "and you are going to bed. Don't even try to argue with me."

Kit tries to answer, but he can't get enough breath in his lungs to form the words. Black spots swirl in his vision, expanding until everything is a field of black. He feels himself falling, falling, off the edge of the world.

* * *

Softness all around him. Something cold and wet on his face, dripping down. He reaches up to wipe it off, can barely move his arms.

Hard plastic pokes his lower lip.

"Come on, Kit, you have to drink this."

"Dad?" The word is hardly more than a whisper.

"Ssh." Hands holding him, supporting him. "Don't talk, just drink."

His mouth fills with warm, thick liquid which tastes of fruit. It burns like fire going down. He chokes, sputters, and a hand rubs his back.

"Easy, easy."

When he's able to breathe again, he slides back down onto what he knows must be a pillow, and sleeps.

* * *

He wakes, some time later, in darkness. His head feels like it's stuffed with cotton, and everything hurts. His breath comes in wheezes and gasps.

There's a shadow across the room, silhouetted in the dim light of a doorway. "Kit?"

He tries to speak, can only cough.

"It's okay, I'm here. I think it's time for some more medicine."

The fruity taste is in his mouth again, and it takes him a few tries to swallow it all. But eventually it all goes down.

Long, slim fingers against his forehead. The touch is deliciously cool. "Let's hope this fever of yours goes down soon. I don't want to have to drag you to the hospital."

And that wonderful cold wetness is back, pressing against his forehead, moving down over his cheeks, his throat. He leans into it and moans with pleasure.

Then, suddenly, it's taken away.

"No . . . don't . . . don't leave . . ."

There's a gentle creaking sound that he recognizes as the springs on the chair next to his bed. "I'm right here. I'll stay right here, as long as it takes."

It feels good to know there's someone here, looking after him. He's almost smiling as he falls asleep again.

* * *

When next he opens his eyes, Kit isn't sure whether an hour or a week has gone by. He feels completely drained, but at least he can breathe now.

Air! Wonderful air! He sucks in deep breaths without a single hitch or cough. His head is clear, after what must have been days of confusion.

"You're awake."

Len looks like he hasn't had much sleep himself.

"How long have I been out?"

"On and off, about two days."

"Two days?" Kit tries to sit up, but he's still too weak.

"Your fever finally broke last night. Guess the medicine did the trick."

"Maybe," Kit says, but he knows it wasn't just the medicine that cured him. "I thought my dad was here."

"I know. You kept calling for him."

"It was you, though, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Len gives him a tired smile. "We've only got each other. Besides, you took care of me when I was sick. I was just returning the favor."

"Well, thanks, man." He settles back into the bed, straightening the blankets which were on the verge of falling on the floor.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Len says. "Call me if you need anything."

"Maybe some breakfast?" Kit says, surprising himself.

"We'll see."

The sound of the water running nearly puts him to sleep again, but Kit doesn't mind. He feels a sense of warmth all through his body, and this time it has nothing to do with a fever. Having someone around to care for him, to comfort him, almost makes it worth getting sick.

He lays back and closes his eyes.


	7. Far, Far Away

_(Disclaimer: You probably already knew this, but _Star Wars _is owned by Lucasfilm.) _

_(Author's Note: This was a special request from PrincessAnime08. Enjoy movie night!)_

* * *

"All right! We are all set," Kit said, stepping back from the TV.

"What's up?" Len asked.

"Oh, you're gonna love this! Special treat, just for you."

He had waited for a night when it would be just the two of them. Somehow it seemed like it would be more special if they didn't have to share it with anyone else.

He had the movie on DVD, but not tonight. Tonight, he dug out the battered VHS tape that he had watched his own first time. He slid it out of the box and into the waiting slot with an air of excitement.

Len watched him curiously, wondering what this was all about. He glanced at the tape box, but the plain gold cover told him nothing.

The TV screen flickered, went blue, then a message flashed in big letters.

"What is this?" Len asked.

Kit was sitting on the floor with his legs tucked under him. "Just watch."

The screen became a field of stars, superimposed with the words _A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . ._

Then the opening fanfare blared into the small room. Len nearly fell off the couch. "Give a guy some warning, will you?"

"Sorry. I've seen this a million times. I guess I just . . . forgot."

They settled down and watched the opening crawl scroll by.

Rebel Alliance . . . Galactic Empire . . . sounded like standard science fiction. Then he caught his first glimpse of a Star Destroyer, and his mouth fell open. "Whoa!"

"Cool, isn't it?"

"They made this thirty years ago?"

"Yeah, those are all, like, eighteen-inch models. No CGI in this one." Kit made little laser noises.

There was a hiss and a swish of black, as Darth Vader made his first appearance.

Never once taking his eyes from the screen, Len said, "It's so much easier to tell who the bad guys are when they're wearing black armor. Without it . . . they could be anyone."

Kit started to say something, then stopped when he realized Len wasn't talking about Darth Vader.

The droids, Artoo Detoo and See Threepio, distracted him for a while. "It's Markam and Meare!" Len exclaimed, earning him a blank look from Kit.

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Markam and Meare? You know, 'Who's On First'?"

"Oh, you mean Abbott and Costello?"

"Who?"

"Just watch the movie." It would be fun, Kit thought, to compare notes on the differences between their two worlds. But that would have to wait for another time.

Len, for his part, was captivated by the unfolding story and the quite-sophisticated-for-their-time special effects. He had never seen anything like this before. The general themes were familiar--good versus evil, a quest across space, a young man's coming of age--but the presentation was stunning in its detail. After a while, he was so drawn into this imaginary world that he forgot where he was. It wasn't until he heard the doorknob rattle, right at the beginning of the cantina sequence, that he was shocked out of the movie and back into the real world.

Kit hit the pause button, and then jumped up to answer the door. "Oh, hey, Chris, come on in."

"Hey, guys." Chris Ramirez, their fellow Kamen Rider, came in and sat down in the closest chair. "What're you watching?"

"_Star Wars_," Kit said. "Want some popcorn? I found a packet of microwave popcorn in the back of a cabinet. We could split it."

"Sure." Chris looked over at Len, who hadn't moved at all while he waited for the movie to restart. "What's with him?"

"First time. So no spoilers, okay?"

"Really? Never seen it before?"

"Nope."

When the popcorn had finished popping, Kit portioned it out into three bowls, then poured the last of the cran-raspberry juice into three paper cups. One cup and one bowl at a time, he brought everything out and set it on the coffee table.

On the screen, Alderaan had just been destroyed.

"That was stupid of them," Len said. "What can they threaten her with now? She's got nothing left to lose."

"There are other worlds," said Kit. "There's always a reason to keep fighting."

"Besides," said Chris, "there's two more movies. She has to stay alive for those."

"Two **more**?" Len looked like a kid who had just been given the keys to the candy factory. "Can we watch those, too?"

"Another night," said Kit. "Let's hope we have time for this one."

He sat back down on the floor and found himself absorbed in the movie. The first time he had seen it, he had been five years old, sitting in his father's lap and dripping ice cream all over the rug. He'd been so excited. And now, to see that excitement on someone else's face . . .

"I love this part," Chris whispered to him, as the heroes escaped from the Death Star. "I was Han Solo for Halloween when I was eight."

"I was Luke Skywalker," Kit said, "the year my mom died. She made the costume herself, out of old sheets. It was the last thing she did before she went into the hospital."

"Oh, geez, I'm sorry. How old were you?"

"Nine."

"Guys," Len said, looking at them over his shoulder. "Please?"

"Sorry," they said at the same time.

Not a word was spoken during the climactic final battle. Len was so riveted on the action, you could have dropped a monster on his head and he wouldn't have noticed.

During the medal ceremony at the very end, Kit said, "I always wondered why Chewie didn't get a medal, too."

"Dude," Chris said, "Chewie is seven feet tall. Princess Leia's like, five foot nothing. How's she gonna get a medal up there, throw it?"

"They could have had her stand on a box."

"Not in the long shots."

The closing credits began. "That's all?" Len said, disappointed.

"That's all for this movie." Kit got up and began collecting the empty bowls and cups and bringing them out to the sink. "Maybe we could watch it now, or--"

A ripping metallic sound cut him off.

"Or not."

"At least we got to see the end of the movie," Chris pointed out.  
"Len? One of us has to wash dishes when we get home."

"Leave them. I'll do them in the morning. Have you seen my keys?"

While he was busy looking, Kit popped the tape out and put it back in the cabinet. Something caught his eye, and he grabbed it and brought it over to Chris.  
"I think I just found our next movie."

Chris looked at the cover, over at Len, who had found his keys (under the table), and smirked. "Yeah. Perfect."

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Kit said. He left the tape on top of the TV, taking one last glance at it as he locked up.

Oh, yeah. _The Terminator _was just perfect.


	8. Where You Belong

"I went to see your dad today," Len said, as he scooped out mashed potatoes from a cardboard container.

"Really? How'd you get in?" The hospital ward where Kit's father and the other "sleepwalkers" were kept was locked down tight.

"Let's just say they keep everything in that place nice and shiny. Especially the mirrors."

"Oh." Kit nodded. "You should have told me. I would have gone with you."

"No. Too risky for two people. Besides, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision. I just happened to be in the neighborhood." He pushed a container of coleslaw across the table. "You look like your dad."

"Yeah?"

"It's the eyes. You have the same eyes." Adam's eyes. Len had always loved Adam's striking blue-gray eyes, from the first moment he saw them, turned up to his in confusion. _Excuse me? I think I'm lost._

"You want the drumstick?" Kit asked.

"What?"

"You can have it if you want it. Since you went and picked up dinner."

"Sure, thanks." He took it from the bucket and laid it on his plate, already piled high.

"So which one of your parents do you look like?"

"I don't know. I don't really remember them." Len looked a bit sad. "They died when I was very young. I was raised in a state home."

"God, I'm sorry!" Kit couldn't imagine growing up without any family at all. "That must have been awful!"

"It wasn't so bad. They took good care of me. It just . . . it just never felt like home."

"I know." Kit remembered his own experience in a foster home, after his dad disappeared. Though everyone was nice to him, it just wasn't the same.

"Then one day, I met this kid who said he was lost. And something just--clicked."

"Adam?"

"Adam." Those amazing eyes, looking up at him. _I think I'm lost._

_Yeah, aren't we all?_

"How old was he, when you met him?"

"Twelve, I think. He was so little, he looked much younger. But he was so smart, and so funny . . . we called him the Zen Master, because he'd say things which didn't seem to mean much at first, but then you thought about them a while and they'd turn out to be terribly profound. And he was so **lonely**. He had nobody, and I had nobody, and suddenly there we were, together. We were lonely together, and we found each other."

"How does someone like that betray everything he cares about?" Kit asked, as he scooped up the last of the creamed corn.

"I don't know. I don't think I'll ever know. I keep going over and over it, in my mind, looking for that one moment when it all started, but I can't find it. But something like that just doesn't come out of nowhere."

_No, it definitely doesn't. What did I miss? How could I have missed it?_

"Ready for the chocolate cake yet?"

"Almost. God, all this food, all the time . . . I'm gonna get fat." Len patted his six-pack abs. "It's a wonder I'm not already round."

"With all the butt-kicking you do? You'll never be round."

"Save the cake, I think I'm ready for a nap." Len stretched as high as he could, opening his mouth in a bone-cracking yawn. "I'll let you clean up."

"Gee, thanks," Kit quipped, and he began clearing away fast-food litter.

Halfway to the couch, Len suddenly remembered something. "I have something for you."

"Oh? What?"

"You had a birthday a few weeks ago, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Matter of fact, it was the day we met."

"Well, I know it's a little late, but I got you this." He handed the younger man a gift bag, red and silver with white tissue paper peeking out the top.

"You didn't have to do that!"

"It's what friends do."

Kit reached into the bag and pulled out a small ceramic dragon. It was about six inches high, painted scarlet and gold, the bat-like wings curled behind its body.

"This is beautiful!" He held it up to the light, turning it this way and that to admire it from different angles. "Where'd you find it?"

"Little souvenir shop downtown." Len stretched his lanky body out on the couch, hands folded behind his head. "I saw it and thought of you."

"It's great. Thanks." Kit put the dragon up on the shelf, next to his mother's Precious Moments figurines. "So, when's **your **birthday?"

"November."

"November what?"

"Eighteenth. I'll remind you. Make sure you wash off the table, okay?"

Kit just rolled his eyes and went to work.

Len lay back, a smile on his face. He felt like they were a real family now. In his head, he heard again Adam's first words to him: _I think I'm lost._

And his own reply: _No, you're not lost. You're right where you belong._


	9. Security

The moaning wakes me up. I don't know what time it is, but it's still dark outside. Quietly I get up and go check on Kit.

When I look in on him, he's lying on his side, clutching his stomach. This can't be good. I'm going to have to wake him up, aren't I? To find out what's wrong. I just hope it's nothing serious.

"Kit." I reach out and tap him on the shoulder. No effect whatsoever. "Kit, wake up."

Oh, God, I hope he's not really sick. It's 2:32 in the morning, and I didn't get to bed till after midnight. I need to sleep, but I can't just leave him like this. "Kit!"

His eyes open, but I'm not sure he's seeing me. "Wha . . . what?" He rolls over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Are you okay? You were holding your stomach like you were in pain."

"I . . . I . . ."

All of a sudden he claps a hand over his mouth and rushes into the bathroom. By the time I get in there, he's lying facedown on the floor, one cheek pressing into the cold tile. I go into full-blown panic mode. We just saw _The Doors _the other night, and all I can think of is Jim Morrison lying dead in the Paris hotel room. I drop down to make sure Kit's still alive.

Good. He's breathing, he's got a strong pulse . . . now, the question is, what's wrong with him, and what can I do about it?

He stirs and tries to say something, but what comes out is a groan, followed by a glut of vomit. I hold his head up so he doesn't choke on it, and then I get a cool, wet facecloth and wipe his face down. I'm hoping I can take care of this myself, without any trips to the emergency room.

"Okay, buddy, let's get you back to bed."

"No . . ." The word is a low moan. "Don't wanna move . . ."

"You're not sleeping on the bathroom floor."

"Just bring me a pillow and a blanket, I'll be fine."

Well, **that's** encouraging. If he can make jokes, he's probably not dying.

"Come on, get up." I manage to haul him to his feet and half-carry, half-drag him back to bed. He hardly says a word. I'm starting to get really worried now. Once he's lying flat, I poke and prod his midsection, looking for a pain reaction, but there's nothing.

"That doesn't hurt?"

"Not really." He looks miserable, but it's a general sort of misery, not like he's in acute pain. "I barely felt a thing, actually."

"You're not in any pain?"

"No, I think I feel better now."

Thank God. I don't have to worry about his appendix blowing up on me in the middle of the night. I'll see how he is in the morning. "You just get some sleep now. I'll check on you again tomorrow."

"Len?"

"What?"

"Can you . . . can you get me something?"

"Sure. What?" Glass of water, maybe? Some of that pink medicine?

"Can you get me my . . ." And he mumbles something I don't quite catch.

"Your what?"

"My Brundlebear."

"What's a Bumblebear?"

"**Brundle**bear," he says, enunciating clearly this time. "It's in the closet, on the shelf. It's blue."

Sure enough, when I open the closet door, there's a little blue bear sitting right there on the shelf. It's the shade of blue raspberry Kool-Aid. One ear is held on with electrical tape. The other is matted with what looks like grape jelly.

I bring it over to him and he snuggles it like a little kid. It all seems so familiar, and I find myself saying, "You have a Muff-Muff."

"Muff-Muff?"

"Adam had a bear just like this. Except I think his was green. He called it Muff-Muff. It usually stayed under his pillow, unless he was sick, or had bad dreams, or he'd had a really bad day. Then he'd take it out and cuddle it. Just like you're doing."

Kit looks at me, and then he tries to tuck the bear under the covers. Brumble--er, Brundlebear lands on the floor, and I pick it up.

"Don't worry, it's our secret. Where'd he get a name like Brundlebear, anyway?"

"Family joke," Kit says. His face looks a bit flushed, and I begin to worry. Then he grins and asks, "Why did Adam call his Muff-Muff?"

"I don't know. He never told me. He guarded that thing like it was a precious gem. Especially after one of the other kids stole it."

"Stole it?"

"It was a few months after I met him. Poor kid was having a hard enough time already--he was the youngest one there, and everyone called him Baby. Especially this one kid, David."

"What happened?"

I just smile and tell the story.

* * *

"Aw, does baby want his widdle toy?"

"Give it back!" Adam reached up for the bear, which David held over his head.

"Widdle Adam want his teddy?" David was a world-class jerk at fourteen, and Adam was his favorite victim.

"**Give it!**" Adam looked like he was about to cry.

"Leave him alone," I said, stepping into the room.

He gave me an innocent look and said, "I'm just playing with the kid."

"Are you proud of yourself, torturing a little kid? Do you know the kind of day he's had? He's already upset, and now you want to take his only consolation away from him? You little--"

"You gonna hit me? Go ahead."

"No," I said. "I wouldn't waste a punch on you. Give him the bear back."

David looked down at the bear, then at me, purposely avoiding Adam's pleading eyes. "You know what? This thing needs to be washed. I think I'll take it down to the laundry."

"No!" Adam was panic-stricken. He turned to me and begged, "Stop him! Don't let him do this!"

"You stay here," I said. "I'll go get Muff-Muff back."

I caught up with David a few minutes later .

"You little brat! When we get home, I'm gonna--"

"You keep making threats, but you never follow through."

"I'm saving it for the right moment. Give me the bear, David."

"He's too old for baby toys."

"It's his. Give it back."

"I **was** gonna bring it to be washed. Think he can survive one night without his Boo-boo?"

"I don't know," I said. "Could **you** survive a night without your Illy?"

His eyes widened. "It's not the same thing! I have allergies."

"Sure you do." I shook my head; we all knew better than that. "And we all **name **our hypoallergenic pillows."

"Nobody ever cared about **me**! Nobody ever thought **I **was special! Why him and not me, huh?"

"Because you're a bully and a loudmouth, and you've never had one good word to say to Adam the whole time you've been here."

"He shouldn't be here!"

"Oh, yeah? He kicked your butt in the placement tests!"

"I've improved since then."

By this time we had walked back to Adam's and my shared room. David still had Muff-Muff under his arm.

"You gonna give the bear back now?"

He gave me a sly look. "What's in it for me if I do?"

"If you give it back, and apologize, the matter ends here. I won't report it to anyone."

"And if I don't?"

"You just might find your Illy hanging from the flagpole tomorrow morning."

"You wouldn't!" He stared at me with wide eyes.

"Try me."

There was a moment when I thought he might take the bear and run again, but he didn't. He handed it over to me and walked away without a word.

"Did you get him?" Adam asked, when I came into the room.

I held Muff-Muff out to him. He snatched it up and cuddled it.

"You okay now?"

Adam looked up at me. "He didn't apologize."

"You know what?" I said. "He didn't."

The following morning, the entire school was treated to the sight of David's Illy flapping from the flagpole. Revenge never felt so sweet.

* * *

"You really hung his pillow from the flagpole?" Kit asks.

"No," I say. "I bribed Jeremy and Mark to do it."

He laughs at that. "David sounds like a real piece of work."

"He did grow out of it," I tell him, adjusting the blankets around him. "He actually wasn't a bad guy once he--what's wrong?"

Kit's bent forward, arms wrapped around his stomach. His face is dripping with sweat. "I think I'm gonna--"

"Say no more." I run and grab him a plastic basin from under the sink, and make it back just in time.

For the next few hours, I'm running back and forth, getting him medicine, getting him drinks, taking his temperature, emptying the bucket. I'm so tired I can barely stand, but I can't leave Kit when he's so sick. I'm moving almost on autopilot, having done this before. The bear keeps falling on the floor, and I keep picking it up. Kid's gotta have his bear.

Finally he falls asleep, just as dawn is breaking. I check one last time that he's got everything he needs, and then I lay down on the floor beside his bed and go to sleep.

* * *

Three days later, Kit's fine, but I'm the one riding the porcelain express.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," he says while he rubs the back of my neck. "I didn't mean to get you sick, too."

"I'm okay. I just need a minute . . ."

"You need to get back to bed. Come on, I'll help you."

Kit helps me to my feet and back to the couch, where he tucks me in and gets me medicine and brings me drinks and takes my temperature, just like I did for him. He even brings me the basin, just in case.

"You don't have to do this," I say. "I'm fine."

"You're **not **fine, Len. But you will be. I know what you need."

"What? Is it more medicine? I don't want to sit up, it hurts to sit up . . ."

"It's not medicine," he says. "Do **you **have a Muff-Muff?"

"I used to. I lost it."

"You can borrow mine, then." He goes and gets Brundlebear for me. "Just until you feel better."

"Thanks." I tuck the bear in beside me.

And you know, it does make me feel better.


	10. Not in Kansas Anymore

Len watched Munchkins cavort and sing their way across the TV screen, an expression of disbelief on his face. The black-and-white part hadn't been so bad. Then, suddenly, the whole thing exploded into color, and none of it made sense!

"This is the most bizarre thing I've ever seen."

"We haven't even got to the wicked witch yet," Chris said.

"Oh, the witch used to scare the snot out of me!" Kit said with a shudder. "I used to run and hide under my bed whenever she came on. It was **years **before I could watch it all the way through!"

"You know what used to freak me out? The guards at the witch's palace."

"The guys in the big tall hats who went around chanting? Those guys?"

"Yeah. I don't know why, but they gave me the creeps."

When the witch finally made her appearance, Len didn't think she was so scary. "Why is she green?"

Kit and Chris looked at each other, at a loss for words. "I don't know," Kit said finally. "She just is."

"Maybe she ate something that disagreed with her," Chris said. "Who cares? It's a movie. Just watch it."

So they did. Len had no further comment until the Oz the Great and Terrible scene, when he said, "Oh, please. That is such an obvious hologram! How can they not see it?"

Kit just shook his head. "Dude, this movie was made a long time before they had hologram technology."

"Maybe on **your** world."

"Yeah, whatever."

When the movie was over, Len went outside to clear his head.

"Is he okay?" Chris asked. "He seemed a little . . . disappointed with the film."

"He just needs a few minutes. It's a lot to process."

"Yeah. We'll just put this on the list of 'Things They Don't Have in Ventara,' along with Google, Spaghettios, microwave pizza, frozen yogurt . . ."

"And the Beatles." Kit said.

Chris just stared at him in disbelief. "How could they not have the Beatles?"

"It's very strange, very strange."

* * *

"Bee-ah-tlees?"

Kit looked up. "What are you doing with my dad's CDs?"

"Just looking. What are Bee-ah-tlees? Bee-at-less?"

"Beatles. Dude, you've never heard of the Beatles?"

Blank stare.

"Okay, then. Why don't we listen to some of it?" Kit suggested. "Which one should we start with?"

Len thumbed through the stack of CDs, stopping at _Sgt. Pepper_. He flipped it over to look at the track names, and recognized one of them. "This one. Start with number two."

"Okay." Kit hit the power button on the CD player and popped the drawer open. A few seconds later, they heard the opening bars of "With a Little Help From My Friends."

It only took a moment for Len to realize that he **did **know this song. "Oh," he said. "The Quarrymen!"

"Quarrymen?" Kit said, confused.

"You know . . . John, Paul, George, and Peter?"

"**What?**"

"They're only the number-one-selling band of all time! They were the biggest thing in music in the Sixties--they pretty much **defined **the Sixties, according to some music critics."

"And Pete Best was still part of the group?"

"Of course. Wasn't he, here?"

"No. He left before they got famous."

"That's weird," Len said. "I've always loved the Quarrymen. I have--had--all their discs, even the transitional ones from when they broke up and then got back together."

"Got back together?"

"In 1974. They broke up for good in 1978, but then after John was shot, the surviving members reunited at World Fest '85. They made a movie about it a few years ago."

"Wait a minute . . . slow down." Kit's head was spinning from all this musical history gone wild. "Start at the beginning. They broke up? When?"

"1970. When they came back, it was without the two founding members. Paul left to start his own band, and John went into seclusion after Yoko died. It was years before he went back to his music. And then one night, he was on his way home from a recording session, and some crazy woman shot him."

"**Woman**?" It was before Kit was born, but he was pretty sure it was a man who shot John Lennon. "Who was she?"

"Nobody knows. She just disappeared. Over the years, five thousand, eight hundred and forty-two women have claimed to be the assassin, but none of them have been able to prove it."

"And next time, on 'Depressing Tales of Dead Rock Stars . . .'" Kit quipped, trying to change the subject.

Len nodded. "I guess it is kind of depressing. A lot of them died young."

"My dad used to say they were trapped by their own fame. Like Elvis."

"Elvis?" Len looked at him in confusion.

"Presley?"

"Never heard of him."

Now it was Kit's turn to look confused. It was only a moment before Len smiled and said, "Gotcha!"

"Dude! Not funny!"

"Okay, okay. I won't do that again. Let's go through the stack and see if there's anything else I recognize."

They ended up with three piles: the first, groups and/or albums that Len knew; the second, those that he knew but in a slightly different form (different songs on the album, different people in the group); and the third, those he'd never heard of at all.

"This is so weird," Kit said. "I wonder what else is different in Ventara?"

"Well, let's see. Where do you keep your bread?"

"Why? You want to compare grocery items now?"

"No, I haven't had lunch yet."

"Oh. Guess we'll take a break, then."

* * *

"That **is **weird," Chris said. He looked around. "Len hasn't come back yet? Should we be worried?"

"He'll be fine," Kit said.

"It's getting dark."

"Give him a few more minutes."

But when an hour had passed and Len still wasn't back, Kit went looking for him.

He didn't have to look far. Len was sitting on the curb in front of Kit's building, watching the windows of the building across the street as if he were waiting for something to happen.

"Everything all right?" Kit asked, sitting down beside him.

"Huh?"

"You look like you're expecting trouble. Anything going on that I should know about?"

Len just sighed. "It wouldn't be so bad," he said, "if it were all strange, or all familiar. But when so much is the same and so much is different at the same time . . . I don't know. I just don't."

He looked so sad that Kit wanted to do something, but he didn't know what.

"I wish . . . I wish I could just click my heels and have everything go back to the way it was, before. Everything happened so fast. I just . . . I just don't know if I can fix this."

"You're not alone," Kit said. "Together, we can make things right. I know we can."

"Let's hope so," Len said. He drew his jacket tight around himself and shivered. "It's cold out here."

"I'm not cold."

"I am."

"You've been sitting here longer. That's probably why. Time to go inside."

"Yeah, you're right." He got to his feet slowly, and Kit followed suit.

They spent the rest of the night watching _Yellow Submarine_, which Kit had found behind two other movies. It seemed just the thing to lift Len's spirits, and, in fact, he loved it.

"They made **more **movies?" he asked, when it was over. "They didn't in my world. The Quarrymen made one pathetic film that nobody liked, and that was it."

"Too bad you couldn't bring it," Chris said. "I'd watch it. Even if it was terrible."

"Really?"

"Sure. Might be interesting."

By this time it was getting late, and Kit, who had been out and about all day long, was falling asleep across the arm of the couch, his head hanging down like it weighed ten tons. Len watched him with some amusement. It was the strangest sleeping position he'd seen since his friend Jeremy had curled up on top of a table. Jeremy, he recalled, could sleep just about anywhere.

"Should we wake him up?" Chris asked.

"Give him a minute, see if he wakes up on his own."

"Or falls off the couch."

"Or that."

Kit did neither one, defying gravity as he slept. Chris and Len picked him up as gently as they could and brought him in to bed. Once he was settled, they walked to the door together.

"I'll see you tomorrow, man," Chris said.

"Dorothy was right, you know."

"Huh?"

"There is no place like home," Len said. He looked around, and smiled. "But this is almost as good."

"Oh. Um . . . yeah. See ya."

"Take care, man."

He locked up and went back to the TV, rewinding _Yellow Submarine_ so he could watch it again and learn some of the songs. Another item on the list of things in this world that made it worth fighting for.


	11. In the Rain part 1

It was raining when Kit woke up Saturday morning. Not just little sprinkles, either; it was pouring down in buckets. The picture window looked like someone was standing outside with a hose turned on it.

"Oh, man," he said. "So much for our trip to the beach." The rain was coming down in sheets that would make an umbrella useless. All outdoor activities would have to wait for a better day.

"Len?" he called out. "You up yet?"

No answer. Obviously not, then. Kit quietly made his way into the kitchen and opened the cabinet where they kept the cereal.

There was no cereal.

"Great."

Then he saw a yellow sticky note on the fridge. He recognized Len's spiky writing:

Out of Cereal

TOLD YOU YESTERDAY

Gone to Store, Back Soon

Even better, Kit thought. He'd been looking forward to a big bowl of Frosted Flakes, and now they were out. And what was with the passive-aggressive note? Couldn't he just say what was on his mind? What was next, sending faxes to tell him to fold his laundry?

Kit decided to leave a note of his own:

Went Back to Bed

Sorry about Cereal

And with that, he shuffled back to his room . . .

And then the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"_Hey, Kit. Guess the beach trip's off, huh?"_

"Hey, Maya. Yeah, looks that way."

"_And on my one day off, too."_

"I feel for you, totally. So . . . what should we do instead?"

"_Let me think about that and get back to you."_

"Okay. I'll be here."

"_Talk to you later."_

"Yeah. Bye." He hung up and looked out the window. The rain had not let up one inch, and it didn't look like it would any time soon. In fact, it actually seemed to be raining harder than it had been before.

_And Len's out in this, _Kit thought. _Because I forgot to buy cereal. He must be so mad at me right now. Better make myself scarce._

* * *

The door blew open like a hurricane was passing through. It took nearly all of Len's strength to close it again, and then he stood there for a moment, water running off him in little streamlets onto the carpet. He shrugged out of his sodden jacket and hung it across the back of a chair. Then he eased off his boots and, leaving them by the door so he wouldn't track mud everywhere, squelched his way into the bathroom in search of a towel. Or ten.

On the way he dropped the cereal, safely protected in a plastic bag, onto the kitchen counter. He'd bought the biggest box of Frosted Flakes he could find, just so they wouldn't have to buy cereal again any time soon.

_I just hope we have enough milk. No way I'm going out there again._

He had one change of clothes, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember where they were. They were in a bag along with the few personal possessions he'd taken from home, but where was the bag?

Kit's bathrobe was hanging on a hook on the bathroom door. Len stripped off his wet clothes, dumped them in the hamper, then slipped on the robe and tied it around his waist. It stopped around his knees, but it would have to do for now. Maybe later, he'd get one of his own, but right now he had to find his clothes.

He looked for the bag all around the couch, over by the workbench, under the coffee table, in the laundry hamper, and even inside the refrigerator (things have been found in stranger places). No luck. It was like it had just vanished into thin air.

There was one place he hadn't checked yet: the bedroom. That might be a problem if it was occupied at the moment. He knocked twice, but there was no answer.

"Kit? Are you awake?" Though it felt like the middle of the day to Len, who had been up since the crack of dawn (or what would have been dawn if the sun had been out), it was only quarter past eight. Kit might not be up for a while.

Well, when he finally did get his butt out of bed, at least he'd have something to eat for breakfast. And he'd better be grateful for it, too.

Len decided to see what was on TV. Nothing looked interesting. News . . . cartoons . . . infomercials . . . nothing he recognized. Not that he had expected to, but--

Then he spotted something he **had** seen before. It was an old black-and-white movie that he had never seen the beginning or end of, but he remembered this middle part very well.

He remembered the last time he had seen it . . .

* * *

The Common Room had a hierarchy of seating: leather couch, stripey-fabric-covered couch, upholstered chair, rocking chair, beanbag chair, floor. The couches sat three people each, so the only time anyone had to sit on the floor was when more than ten people were gathered. Or David kicked them off the couch.

The beanbag chair had once been a more desirable spot, until someone spilled grape juice on it. When the stain failed to come out, David abandoned it to whoever wanted it and took over whichever of the two couches was already occupied. Even if every other seat in the room was empty, he always went for the one spot that wasn't.

On this particular day, David and his gang were taking up the leather couch--David lying across it, Brandon perched on the very end, and Jaden sitting on the floor in front of them.

"Jay, I can't see through you," David said, for the fourth time that hour.

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"**Both** of you shut up!" Brandon snapped. "Sit down and watch . . . whatever this is."

Reluctantly, Jaden sat. Then he popped back up again. "Hey, I know that guy! He just died, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did," said Len. "You've got good eyes." He was in the rocking chair with a cup of tea perched on the arm, and the remote in his lap. The remote was usually the property of the first one in the room, but after Adam's habit of constantly flipping channels had led to all-out war, Len had broken it up and confiscated the remote himself. He just happened to find that movie that he had seen so many times before but never seen all the way through. This time, he vowed, he would find out what it was.

He went looking for the on-screen program guide, but got the Blue Screen of Death instead. Usually it came back up within a few seconds, but not this time. It looked like it would be down for a while. He grumbled and turned back to the movie.

They were coming back from a commercial break. "And now, back to our feature presentation . . ."

_Come on, just tell me already!_

"_The_--"

WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!

Jaden looked up. "That's the general alarm."

"That's right!" David said, in mock-surprise. "Brilliant! Five points to Gryffindor!" The Harry Potter books were the only ones Jaden would read, over and over, sometimes out loud.

Len wanted to seriously hurt whoever had activated the alarm. Couldn't they have waited five bloody seconds?

"Hey," David said. "I could cover for you, if you want to stay and watch the end of this. It's probably just another drill."

"What if it's not a drill?" Len got up and turned off the TV, sadly.

"It'll be on again," Adam said, the eternal optimist. "We'll find out what it is then."

But they never did.

* * *

"Why are you wearing my robe?"

"Huh?" Len looked over to see Kit standing between him and the TV. "Oh. My clothes were wet, and I couldn't find my other ones. Have you seen my bag anywhere? Black drawstring bag, about so big?"

"It's in the utility closet."

"What's it doing in the utility closet?"

"I put it there so we wouldn't trip over it." Kit went to the closet and got the bag down. "Sorry, I guess I forgot to tell you. Between that and the cereal, I'm really slacking off. I hope you're not mad at me for my massive stupidity."

"I'm not mad at a-a-achoo!"

Now Kit **really **felt bad. It wasn't enough that Len went out into the pouring rain to get breakfast because Kit had a mental block. Now because of his massive stupidity, his best friend might be getting sick. This was just about the worst thing that could happen right now . . .

And then the lights went out.

"Great. Just perfect."

"Maybe they'll come back on again," Len said, sniffling. "It might just be a temporary glitch in the grid or something."

"I don't think so." Kit went to the window and looked out. "The whole block's gone dark."

He went to the still-open closet and got a couple of flashlights down, clicking them on and off to make sure they still worked. "Go get dressed. I'll look for the emergency candles and stuff. And batteries. I know we have batteries somewhere."

"Right." Len picked up the bag and headed for the bathroom.

"Oh, and Len? While you're in there, you might want to take something for that cold."

"Good idea."

_To Be Continued . . ._


	12. In the Rain part 2

Though the lights had only been off a short time, the temperature in the apartment seemed to have dropped a good twenty degrees all at once. At least, that's what it felt like to Len, who shivered and pulled Kit's bathrobe tighter around himself. What he needed was a hot bath and a cup of tea, and then some warm, fuzzy blankets to wrap himself up in.

Today would actually be a good day to stay in and rest. It was unlikely there would be any . . . activity . . . on such a gray and miserable day, and with the beach trip cancelled, there was nothing else to do. Once he was dressed, he looked for something to occupy himself for a while, but there was nothing available, so he decided to practice his exercises.

He extended his arms and stepped into the First of the Seven Forms, but he was shaking so badly he couldn't hold it long. He tried the Second, with no luck either.

"What are you doing?"

"Huh?"

"What are you doing?" Kit repeated.

"I was trying to practice the Seven Forms, but I can't seem to focus right now. It takes a lot of concentration."

"Did you take any medicine yet?"

"I knew I forgot something." He went back into the bathroom and grabbed a box of multi-symptom cold medicine, a bottle of aspirin, a thermometer (although he was pretty sure he didn't have a fever), and some Vitamin C. Coming out of the bathroom with his arms full, he had a bad moment when the world tilted and he nearly dropped everything.

"Whoa!" Kit reached out and caught Len before he toppled over.

"I'm . . . I'm all right. It's just the cold messing with my balance."

"Come and lie down. I'll make breakfast."

"You don't cook."

"Anyone can pour cereal into a bowl."

"True." Len wasn't really hungry at the moment, but he thought he might be able to manage some cereal. Then he'd take the medicine and go to sleep for a while. Nothing else to do until the power came back, anyway.

Minutes crept by, while he sat there shivering, even with two blankets around him. Was it getting colder? Or was it just his imagination? Maybe he did have a temperature after all. Where was that thermometer . . . ?

He closed his eyes, just for a second, and the next thing he knew, Kit was shaking him. "Len! Hey, don't go to sleep on me yet!"

"I wasn't. I was just resting my eyes."

"Right," Kit said, unconvinced. "I made you some of that tea you like. Let me get it for you--"

"I can do it," Len said, starting to get up.

"No, no! You stay there. I've got it." Kit looked around. "Is there a window open or something? It's like a polar cave in here."

"So it isn't just me," Len said, relieved.

"Nope." Following the cold air that was blowing through the room, Kit traced it back to an open window on the far side. He closed it firmly, locked it so it wouldn't blow open again, and pulled the shade down. "There. Problem solved."

It **was **better now, Len thought. "Can we go ahead and have breakfast now?"

"Sure," Kit said, and brought it over to the coffee table.

It was too quiet, though, without the normal background noise of the TV. The crunching of cereal sounded abnormally loud in the small space. It was like listening to artillery fire at close range, and the noise made Kit wince and rub his temples.

Len didn't like that. "You okay?"

Kit swallowed what was in his mouth and raised his head. "You're asking me if **I'm** okay? You're the one who's sick."

"True, but . . . right now you look worse than I do." He slid the bottle of aspirin across the table.

"It's not that bad, really."

"Not that bad? You look like you're--" The rest of the sentence was drowned out by a lengthy and painful-sounding coughing fit. "Excuse me."

"Maybe you need this more than I do."

"No, I just--just swallowed something the wrong way." He took a sip of his tea. "This is good. You make this?"

"Yeah."

"Did you put honey in this? Tastes like it."

"Yeah, I did."

"How did you know?"

"Mom used to put it in her own tea."

"You miss her?"

Kit thought about it a moment, then nodded. "I know it's been a long time, but . . ." He hesitated for a minute before speaking again. "You know."

"But you never really forget," Len finished for him. "There's always that empty place inside of you, that no one else can ever fill again. And sometimes you can go for a long time without thinking about it, and then it hits you all of a sudden, and it's like it just happened. And it hurts all over again."

He stared out at the sky for what seemed like forever, watching the constant progress of the rain down the window and thinking about lost friends. Then he sneezed three times in a row, and wiped his nose on a paper napkin.

"You sound awful," Kit said. "You should take your medicine."

"You first," Len said, nodding toward the aspirin bottle. "You take yours, I'll take mine, and then we'll both go lie down."

"But I just got up! Besides, it's not that bad . . ."

"It's probably weather-related. I knew a kid once; every time the barometric pressure dropped, he'd get these awful headaches. He'd have to lie down in a dark room for hours."

"It **could** be the weather." Kit tried to think of the last time he'd felt like this. Wait a minute . . . a few months ago, when they'd had that thunderstorm, there had been a long stretch when he was cooped up in bed with only his teddy bear and a comic book he'd read three times for company, unable to sit up or even open his eyes for long for fear his head might explode. It was the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life. He'd nearly asked Jeanine, his foster mother, to take him to the hospital, but decided to hold off till the morning. As it turned out, when morning came, bright and sunny after all the rain, he felt so much better that he decided to go to school instead.

Len gave him a quick once-over. "If you take care of yourself now, it won't get so bad later on."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. What about you?"

"Let me finish my tea first. Get some hot liquid into me to help break up the congestion so I can sleep."

"OK, then, I'll wait for you." Kit finished his cereal, which was turning to mush at the bottom of the bowl. He took the empty bowl and plopped it in the sink to wash later. Then he rubbed his forehead and sat down heavily. He still had half a glass of juice left, but he was saving it for the medicine.

Len was taking his time finishing his tea, and Kit wondered if maybe swallowing was becoming a problem for him. Maybe he should get some ice or something . . .

But he didn't want to move again, if he could help it.

He laid his head down on the table and closed his eyes; in about two seconds, he had fallen into a deep sleep and was snoring lightly.

Len watched him doze, wondering whether or not to wake him. He must be really sick if he could nod off so easily. Probably best to leave him where he was, with the addition of a blanket around his shoulders and a pillow from the couch under his head.

Then Len took his own medicine, lay down on the couch, and joined Kit in the deep dark pits of slumber.

The insistent ringing of the phone roused Kit some time later. He looked around, a bit disoriented because of the lack of light in the room, and then went to the phone and picked it up. "Yeah?"

"_Kit? Did you go back to bed? You sound like you just woke up."_ Maya's voice sounded concerned.

"Yeah, I . . . I guess I did. I had kind of a bad headache, but it's better now. What can I do for you?"

"_I was going to come up, but if you're sick--"_

"Really, I'm a lot better now. Just let me throw some clothes on, and I'll come down and meet you."

"_Okay. Just let me find a legal place to park, and I'll be right up."_

"I'll be waiting." He hung up, shuffled to his room to get dressed, and on the way back finally took two aspirin with the remains of his now-warm juice. He pulled on a clean pair of socks and stepped into his sneakers without bothering to tie them--which proved to be a mistake when he tripped and almost face-planted on the carpet. Securing them in a double knot, he continued on his way.

According to the clock, it was almost noon. He'd slept for nearly three hours, without even meaning to.

And it was still raining. There was a rumble that he at first took for thunder, but then when he looked out the window, he saw the power company trucks in the street. Was this a good sign? He hoped so.

There was a knock at the door. Kit went and opened it. "Still raining, I take it."

"Pouring. Not supposed to stop until late this afternoon."

"Come in. Sit down. Anywhere but the couch."

"What's wrong with the couch?" Then she looked and saw why it wasn't an option. "Oh. Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't worry, he's dead to the world. Probably will be for hours. So he'll be fine. Show me what you've got there."

"Well," she said, setting her bundles down, "I already had the cooler packed for the beach, and I figured why let it go to waste?"

"Sounds good to me. Maybe later, though. Did you notice the trucks are out? Hopefully they'll get the power back on soon."

"I know. I talked to one of the guys, and he said it should be back any minute now. So I brought these." She pulled from her bag a stack of DVD movies. "I know they're from the sale rack, but we've got nothing else to do today, so . . ."

Kit looked through them and saw one he recognized. "Hey, I know this one. My mom loved it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she used to put it on whenever she was feeling blue."

"I guess today's a good day for it, then," Maya said. "If the power comes back on soon . . ."

The moment she said that, the lights came back.

* * *

The light shining in his face woke Len from a sound sleep.

Light. He sat up slowly and looked around. "Huh?"

Kit was there in an instant. "Hey, welcome back. How are you feeling?"

"Like something the cat dragged in--after pounding it with a sledgehammer," Len sighed.

"Maybe you should take some more medicine and go back to sleep."

"Maybe," he shrugged.

"Oh, are you sick too?" Maya said. "Should I be worried?"

Len shook his head. "No, it's nothing. Only a cold. My fault for going out in the rain."

"**My** fault," Kit insisted, "for not going out and buying cereal when you told me to."

"I told you, it's not your--" Then he saw what was on the TV screen. "I don't believe it. How long has this been on?"

"About twenty minutes. Why?"

"I've been trying to find out the name of this movie for three--" He sneezed explosively and then continued. "Three years. I was watching it when the lights went out. I thought I'd never get to see it again."

"Why didn't you just ask me?" Kit said. "I would have told you." He got up and brought over the box. "Here you go. Does that help?"

"A lot." He turned it over and finally read the title that had eluded him for so long: _The Night of the Seven Swordsmen. _He looked up at the TV, and just as he did, the picture stuttered and then froze. "Great. I am doomed to never see the end of this."

"Not necessarily," Kit said. "Maybe it's just dirty. Let me pop it out and clean it, and we'll see if that helps."

"I hope so. Three **years**," Len said. "I will **not **come so close and be denied!" The statement might have had more of an impact if it hadn't come out sounding like Kermit the Frog.

"Whoa, dude," Kit said. "Don't strain your vocal chords! Here, lie down, get comfortable. I'll go make you some more tea."

"With honey?"

"With lots of honey."

"Good." Len stretched out on the couch, and Kit went to the kitchen. Maya followed after him.

"Kit, he's getting worse," she whispered. "I think maybe you ought to call someone."

"Relax. He's not going anywhere. He's just due for another dose of medicine."

"Well, give it to him! No point in letting the poor guy suffer!" She tore off a paper towel, dampened it in the sink, and began wiping the disc from the center outwards to remove any smudges. "I hope this works."

"I hope so, too," Kit said. He put the cup of hot water in the microwave to heat faster, then when it was done, added the tea bag and the honey. "Here we go," he said, setting it on the coffee table.

"Thanks," Len said hoarsely.

"Okay, this should work now," Maya said, popping the disc into the player. It started up just fine and went back to the main menu. "Want me to go back to the beginning, so you can see the whole thing?"

Len nodded and took another sip of his tea. Lots of honey, indeed. It was just what he needed.

"You gonna take your medicine now?" Kit asked.

"After the movie," Len said. "I promise."

"Okay, then. Enjoy."

He went in to wash the breakfast dishes. When he came back, he sat beside Maya and said, "You know you're never getting that back from him."

"I don't mind. Look at how happy he is. It's like he's waited his whole life for this."

"Yeah."

"How's your head, by the way?"

"Much better. I think the storm's moving out."

"That's good. Want to go ahead and open the cooler now?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

And when the rain finally let up, an hour later . . . they never even noticed.


	13. The Future

"Have you thought about what you'll do," Kit asked one night, "when this is all over?"

Len hadn't really considered it. "I'm taking it one step at a time right now."

"No, but just say we come out of this okay. We defeat Xaviax and save everything and we're all okay. What then?"

"Seriously . . . I don't know."

"Not even a wild idea?"

Len sighed heavily. "I learned not to make long-term plans around the time I found myself living with one set of strangers after another."

"Yeah, I understand that, but . . . you really haven't even thought about it? Not even once?"

_Why won't he let go of this? _"**No**," Len said, in a final, we-are-through-with-this-discussion tone of voice.

"Okay! Sorry. Didn't realize it was such a touchy subject." Kit cleared the table and started to wash the dishes even though it wasn't his turn, leaving Len sitting alone and thinking, for the first time, about having a future.

Oh, he'd had dreams as a kid. First he'd wanted to be a race car driver. Then a police officer. Then one of his foster moms had signed him up for martial arts classes as a way to get him out of her hair, and suddenly that was all he wanted to do. When he was fourteen, a cool foster dad named Jerry had introduced him to the art of motorcycle maintenance, and **that **became his new love.

Just before he turned eighteen, he was pulled out of class and told that he was being sent to a "special" school, run by the government. This had puzzled him at first, as he'd always been an A student, but his adviser told him it was an advanced program, just starting up, and only the top one percent of students in the entire country were being recruited. She made it sound like the highest honor anyone could receive.

So he'd gone in, not knowing what to expect, and it had turned out to be a pretty good deal. He liked the physical classes, learning a new form of self-defense every week or so, but he liked the classroom learning, too. He did a lot of independent reading in the library, which was not exactly encouraged but not discouraged, either.

And then one day he figured out what had been bothering him about this whole setup: all of the students in the program were between twelve and eighteen, had at least two years of martial arts training, almost exclusively male (nine girls had started out the first year, of a class of two hundred; only one was left by graduation), and almost all from broken homes, state homes, or otherwise undesirable home situations.

This led him to one conclusion, which he never shared with anyone, until one night in the Common Room, a month before graduation, when Kase, the lone female member of the class, had looked at him and said . . .

* * *

"So what do you think they're going to do with us when we're done with this place?"

The question had surprised him. "Well, obviously, they're training us for something important. They can't just release a hundred teenagers skilled in multiple disciplines of hand-to-hand combat out into an unsuspecting world."

"Sure they can," David said. "They can't just keep us. We're adults--well, most of us are adults," he said, looking over at sixteen-year-old Adam. "I mean, this isn't the military."

"Want to bet?"

David looked at him curiously. "What do **you** think is going on?"

"Think about all of us, all the training we've received over the last four years. Think of how none of us have any real family connections. No one to miss us."

"You mean . . .?"

"I mean suicide missions. Why send soldiers with families and homes when they have a hundred highly trained, disciplined operatives with no ties to anyone whatsoever? It makes perfect sense when you think about it."

"You really think they'd just . . . throw us away like that?" Kase asked him.

"I don't think they **want **us to die," Len clarified. "They just don't care if we do."

"**I** care," David said. "They can't do this to us, can they? Just ship us off to die without a second thought?"

"Don't you want to serve your country, D?"

"Well, yeah, but not be thrown away like a piece of garbage! I mean, we can back out of this, can't we?"

"We may not have a choice," Kase said. "You've heard about the stuff that's happening, all over the world? The disappearances? A whole town full of people near Columbus just vanished, without a trace. It's obvious something big is going down, and no one will talk about it."

"So, what, we're being invaded by aliens?" David looked dubious. "And they knew about this four years ago? Why didn't they put a stop to it then?"

"How should I know?"

"Okay, can we all just calm down now?" Adam stepped between them, holding out his hands in a gesture of conciliation. "Whatever they have planned for us, we'll find out soon enough. All I know is, whatever happens . . . I'll miss you guys."

It was just the right thing to say, at just the right time. The kid had a knack for that.

* * *

"Are you gonna sit there all night?"

"What?" Len looked up.

Kit was wiping down the table with a dish rag. "Should I just work around you?"

"I'll move."

"You don't have to."

"No, it's okay." He shifted over to the couch and turned on the TV, flicking through channels without really noticing what was on.

"Are you all right?" Kit asked.

"Yeah, sure," Len said absently.

"Guess I touched a nerve, huh?"

"Don't worry about it." He settled on a _Star Trek_ rerun, remembering the endless debates over whether Kirk was better than Picard, and why a woman shouldn't command a starship (that one hadn't ended well). It reminded him of long-lost friends and a time when the future was still one big unknown.

No, he hadn't thought of the future since he'd come to the conclusion that he didn't have one. But what if . . . what if he was wrong? What if they won this war? What would he do then?

He still didn't know. He couldn't think of anything. But for right now, here was a good place. He'd deal with the next thing when it came. He always did.

Sometimes he wondered what his life would have been like if he had been a race car driver, or a police officer, or a firefighter. Probably not as much fun. He didn't waste too much time on what might have been. One thing was for sure: no matter what happened to him, Len was proud to be a Kamen Rider.


	14. Laundry Day

Kit has a lot of T-shirts. Black ones, white ones, gray ones, red ones. Some with designs on them, some with the names of exotic destinations, a couple with band names.

Len sorts them into light and dark colors, and then examines them for stains. Most of them are good, but there's a suspicious red stain near the bottom of one of the gray shirts. He sprays pre-treater on it and puts it aside.

The stories these shirts could tell, if only they could talk. Spinal Tap? What's that? Something that happened in 1982 and 1983, according to the dates on the back. There are cities listed after the dates. Must be a band tour shirt, then. But where did it come from?

There's a green one with _Muppet Show _characters that makes him smile, then frown when he sees the huge split under the arm. He puts that in the mending basket along with a dress shirt that's missing a button and a pair of pants ripped up the back seam. His foster mom taught him how to do simple clothing repairs when he was fourteen, and he finds that he actually enjoys it when there's nothing else to do. If he has time, he might even cut off and hem those jeans with the knees worn through.

The light-colored clothes go in the machine first. Len pours a capful of detergent in and sets the machine to what he hopes is the right wash setting. When the washer starts, he takes out what's in the dryer and starts balling socks.

Been a while since he's done laundry. Been a while since he's had any to do. He has two sets of clothes of his own, and since he's been here, he's had to wash them only once. Airing them out overnight usually does the trick.

Once the socks are done, he starts folding underwear. It's not as interesting as the T-shirts. Most of it is plain white briefs, except for one pair with some kind of cartoon characters on it. Yellow people with spiky hair and four fingers. Strange.

The basket is full of small white bits of cloth now. He sets it down in Kit's room and begins looking around for a needle and thread to do the mending, while he waits for the next load to finish. He looks through all the drawers, in the closet, everywhere, but he can't find anything resembling any kind of a sewing kit. Maybe he'll have to go out and buy one.

Kit should be home any minute now. So Len gets out a pot and fills it with water. They'll have pasta for supper, provided he doesn't screw it up again. Cooking is not his forte, but they can't have take-out every night. While the water heats, he looks through all the cabinets for the jar of sauce he swears he saw a few days ago. It's nowhere to be found.

"Oh, come on!" It has to be here somewhere! When did they last have a pasta dinner? Was it Thursday or Friday? He remembers seeing the half-full jar of sauce sitting on the counter. What happened to it?

He checks the fridge and there it is, right behind the orange juice. Saved! He takes it out and sets it on the counter beside the blue-and-white pasta box with the red label. Now all he has to do is wait for the water to boil so he can cook the pasta and hopefully not drop the whole pot on the floor this time. That was . . . embarrassing. Not to mention painful; he'd burned his fingers on the handle of the pot. Have to remember potholders this time.

After a few minutes, the water's starting to bubble. He dumps the pasta into the pot, gives it a stir with a wooden spoon, and then goes to check on the laundry. It's not quite ready yet, much to his annoyance. He goes back to the kitchen just as the pasta is ready, and Kit's walking through the door.

"What's up?" he asks, seeing the pot sitting on the stove. "Where did that come from?"

"I thought I'd make dinner tonight."

"Last time you tried, we ended up eating off the floor."

"Hey!"

"Just saying."

"Funny how when it's **your **turn to make dinner, we end up eating out."

"They have good seats in the Café, and I like their dessert menu."

"You eat too much sugar." Len dumps the pasta into the colander in the sink, drains it, and returns it to the pot. "Go put your laundry away while I finish this. I put the basket in your room. I'll need it back."

Kit just stares at him. "Wow, what's up with this? You're cooking, you're doing laundry . . . this is too weird."

"Why? Someone's got to do it."

"Maybe, but it just doesn't seem like you. I mean, here you are, the big, tough Kamen Rider, doing domestic chores? Are you sure you're not some kind of pod person?"

"Positive."

"Whatever." Kit shrugs and goes off to put his laundry away. He doesn't mind doing his own laundry; he was expected to do it all the time in the foster home, and he never complained.

Len folds socks the way Kit's dad used to: tops together, folded over, rolled up into a ball. They go on the left side of the top drawer. Undershirts to the right, briefs in the middle. The elastic is starting to go on the pair with the Simpsons on it. Maybe he can get one more wearing out of them. He shoves them to the back, closes the drawer, and hooks his fingers around the handle of the basket. It's white, with slotted sides. He remembers, long ago, an olive green basket he would sit in while his dad dragged him around the room. How old was he? Two? Three? Probably no more than that; it wasn't a big basket.

Kit sits on the end of his bed and wishes his dad were here. It's been so long since he's heard the man's voice (other than those times that may or may not have been his imagination) that he feels abandoned, like he's all alone in the world . . .

There's a tap on his door, and Len pokes his head in. "Dinner's ready, whenever you are."

"OK."

With that, Kit lets go of his self-pity and comes to the door, dragging the basket behind him. The basket starts to tip over, and he lifts it up and carries it, setting it down on the floor to be filled later.

* * *

"It's undercooked," Len says, staring into his bowl.

"It's fine," Kit tells him. "I like it crunchy."

"I should have let it cook longer before serving it."

"At least it didn't end up on the floor this time. You're getting better at this."

"Good. Maybe then I can teach you."

"Teach me later. I'm going for a walk." Kit got up and put his bowl in the sink. "Whose turn is it to wash up?"

"Yours, I think."

"Didn't I do them last night? I'm sure I did . . ."

"Nope. We went out last night. Remember?"

Oh, yeah. They did, didn't they? "Guess I'm washing dishes, then," Kit says with a shrug.

"Don't forget to wash out the pan and the spoons," Len advises him. He gives up on his own crunchy pasta, gets up and adds it to the pile in the sink.

"Wait--where are **you** going?"

Len picks up the basket. "I've got laundry to finish."

* * *

_(Author's note: Hi there! I'm glad so many people are putting my story in their Favorites or Alerts. I'd like to ask if you'd mind leaving a short review, just to let me know what I'm doing right. Thanks so much! Still more to come, so stay tuned!)_


	15. Two Again

_(Author's note: This wasn't the chapter I planned to post next, but after seeing the latest episode, I just had to address what happened in some way. It's very serious, so the next one will be light.)_

* * *

I can't believe he's gone.

I can't believe that we've finally lost someone from our side. It just doesn't seem right, somehow, that Chris should have gotten vented. Just like that.

And it was supposed to be me. He saved my life. With his last bit of strength, he jumped in front of a blast that was meant for me. And I never even got to thank him.

It was only yesterday that we were sitting right here, eating pizza and talking and laughing. There's still a couple of pieces left in the fridge. It's still here . . . and Chris isn't.

Kit is sitting on the couch, holding Chris' deck and staring off into space. He hasn't said a word since we got back. Honestly, I don't know what to do. I don't know if I should say something, or go over and sit beside him, or what. I've given him some space so far, but we can't go on like this all night.

I turn on the TV, flip through channels, finally turn it off. Nothing worth watching on. We could do with some music, though. I flick through CDs until I find something that looks interesting and not too loud, and set it going.

When the music starts, Kit looks up as if he's never seen me before. "What's this?"

For the life of me, I can't remember the name of the CD I just put on not two minutes ago. I hand him the case and let him read for himself. "Is it okay? I just . . . I just needed something."

He shrugs. "Fine."

"You want some iced tea?"

"No."

Okay. I make some for myself and then sit down, in the chair, not too close. I don't know Kit well enough to know if he minds being touched right now. He might be one of those people who just want to be left alone. But sooner or later we have to talk. Too much has gone on today to just ignore.

About the middle of the third track on the CD, he finally speaks up. "It's all my fault."

"What's your fault?" I put my glass down and look at him.

"I . . . I had a chance to vent Axe, and I couldn't do it. Not to another person. It's one thing if it's a monster, but another human being . . ."

"I understand."

"I've had nightmares about it. It shouldn't be like this! It shouldn't be rider against rider! It's just not fair!"

"No," I say. "It isn't."

"I'm sorry. I . . . I failed."

"No, you didn't."

"I did! Because I didn't do what needed to be done, Chris is . . ." He can't finish the sentence. He looks away, probably so I won't see him cry.

"Kit, listen to me."

"What?" Barely more than a murmur.

"I understand how you feel. Believe me, venting other riders isn't easy for me either. It's not supposed to be this way. But this is how it is."

He looks at me, blinking a few times to clear his vision.

"In the end, it comes down to us or them. And I don't want it to be them. If we can't change things, then we're gonna have to . . . finish the job. It's not right, it's not fair, but it's what has to be done. I don't expect you to like it--I'd be worried if you did--but I need you to be with me when it counts. Can you do that?"

"I . . . I don't know." He turns the deck over and over in his hand and sighs. "I'll try."

"I know you will. You've come a long way from when we first started. Now I need you to stick with me when it gets rough. We're still a team, aren't we?"

"You think I'd . . . abandon you, now?" He looks utterly shocked. "That I'd just leave you and walk away? No way, man. We're in this for good. I'm with you."

"Glad to hear it." I reach for the deck. "I'll put this somewhere safe, for now."

For a moment he looks at me as if he doesn't want to give it up, but then he hands it over. "We'll get him back, right?"

"I hope so." I'm not sure if we can or not. I think there's a way, but there's a lot we need to do first. "Are you hungry? There's still some pizza left over."

"Nah, I'm okay."

"You sure? We can call out for something."

"You can if you want. I'll be in my room."

As soon as the door closes, I get up and put my glass in the sink. Yeah, I'm not really hungry either, but I feel like I should eat something. Hmm . . . we haven't had Chinese in a while.

I call and place the order, and then go to see if Kit wants any. His door is closed. I knock twice, but he doesn't answer.

"Kit?" The door isn't locked, so I open it a crack. "Hey, Kit, I ordered some--"

A soft snore interrupts me. He's lying stretched out on his bed, dead to the world. Poor kid, he's had a rough day. That's an understatement.

Okay, I'll save him something. I close the door quietly and then go and turn the power off on the CD player. Maybe I'll watch a movie until the food gets here.

He'll be all right. I know he will. He's a lot tougher than most people give him credit for. He acts a little goofy sometimes, but deep down, I know he's serious about what we're doing. I know I can count on him to be there when I need him. And I'm going to need him a lot. Now that it's just the two of us, I need him watching my back. Just as I'll be watching his.


	16. Up On the Roof

"So here you are."

Len looked up as Kit approached, though of course he'd known he was there. "How did you find me?"

"I don't know. I think it was that Rider-sense thing you have. I've never tried it before, but I just kind of reached out, and . . . it was like hearing music, a long way away. Only **feeling **it instead of hearing it, if you know what I mean. And I just followed it here."

He peered over the edge of the roof and gulped. "Whoa. Long way down."

"You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

"Me? Nah. I **am **afraid of going splat on the pavement, though."

"Stay away from the edge, then."

"Okay." Kit moved back as far as he could, sitting down and stretching out his legs into Second Seated Form. Then he pressed his hands down and arched his back into Third Seated Form. "Oooooaaaaahhhh," he sighed, stretching himself out as far as he could. "That feels good. I wish Axe and Spear would stop using me as a punching bag."

"You want some help dealing with those two?" Len asked him.

"I can handle it."

"We're a team. We fight as a team."

"I just don't want to look like I need my big brother to come bail me out of trouble all the time."

"It's not fair for those two to gang up on you like that." Len curled his legs under his body and arched up and over so that his head touched his heels in a perfect Fourth Seated Form.

"That is amazing," Kit said, watching him. "That's the one I can never get. I just can't bend far enough."

"You will. It just takes practice." He collapsed out of the pose and untangled himself.

"It's nice up here," Kit said. "Nice view."

"This is close to where I entered this world."

"Really?"

Len pointed down to a nearby alley. "Right over there."

"Wow. So this is like home for you?"

"Sort of. I come here sometimes when I need to think about things."

"What things?"

"Just . . . things. Whatever's on my mind."

"You brood, you mean. You do that a lot."

"I do not!"

"Sure you do. You're just that type. Tall, dark, and brooding. The chicks love it."

Len shook his head. "I'm not trying to impress chicks, whatever they are."

"You know, girls. Females. Fine ladies who just love the mysterious type. That's you all over, dude."

"They'll have to wait. We have work to do." He stood up in one swift, graceful motion.

"What is it? I didn't hear any--" And then he felt it, like a tremor in the air, a second before he heard the screeching-metal noise. "Oh, that."

Kit took longer to get up. He went to all fours at first, shifted his weight backwards, rested his hands on his knees, and unfolded. "You make it look so easy."

"I told you, practice. You'll get it. Now come on, let's go."

Kit headed for the stairs, but Len pointed him in another direction. "Why do things the hard way? Let's take the express elevator."

"What express elevator?" Then Kit saw the shine of sheet metal on the wall, like a huge mirror. "Oh. Right. Express elevator."

He looked around and smiled. "At least the next time I'm looking for you, I know where to find you."

"Find me? You can join me. You're welcome here any time."

"Thanks," Kit said. "I'll remember that."

Len was already halfway through the portal. He stopped and looked back. "Are you coming, or what?"

"Course I am!" Kit took a few running steps and leaped through the portal. The metal rippled like water to let him through, and then became solid again.

Len just shook his head. "Showoff," he muttered, and followed him through.


	17. Who is This Girl?

I never knew there were female Kamen Riders. I mean, Len never mentioned it. Not that I have a problem with it or anything--I mean, this is the twenty-first century. Equal rights and all that.

God, she's such a babe, though.

She's looking at me. I didn't just say that out loud, did I?

"Who do you think you are?" she demands.

Oh, crud, I did, didn't I?

"Um . . ." What do you say to someone who can take down mirror monsters without batting an eyelash? Or breaking a nail. She's got nice nails--they're clean, short but functional, covered in pale pink polish--

"You wear Adam's armor, and Adam's face, and you have no right! No right!"

"I was born with the face," I say, before I can stop myself. "Can't do anything about that."

"Kit," Len says, in a warning tone. He knows this person. He grew up with her and everything. I feel like . . . like they've been to a party I wasn't invited to, and now they're talking about what a great time they had.

"I know about the mirror twins," she says. "I know you're not really Adam, but . . . somehow, that makes it worse. At least he knew what he was doing!"

"I know what I'm doing!"

"Oh, please. How long have you been doing this? A month? The only reason you've survived this long is that you've been up against people who don't know what they're doing either. If you were forced to fight against someone with actual skills, you'd lose. Big-time."

"Don't be so hard on him," Len says. "Kit's come a long way in a short time. You'd be surprised."

"Really?" She looks unconvinced.

"Can you excuse us for a moment?" I stand up and gesture to Len. He follows me into the bathroom and shuts the door.

"Okay, who is this . . . woman?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you know it's really her? We've been tricked before."

"I know, all right? I know her."

"Like you knew Adam?"

His face kind of closes up, and I know that has to hurt. "That was different."

"How do we know? How do we know for sure that Xaviax didn't get to her too? You haven't seen this girl for--**how** many months, and suddenly she turns up out of nowhere? Doesn't that seem just a little suspicious to you?"

"I trust her with my life."

"There's something you're not telling me." I'm looking at him, studying his face, but it's like the sunglasses are on again. "Were you two . . . you know? Involved?"

He looks like he wants to laugh. "No, not at all. You remember me telling you I wasn't the leader of the team?"

"Yeah."

He looks at me. Suddenly I get it. "Her?"

A nod.

"You're kidding."

"What, you think just because she's a girl that she can't be in charge? Try telling her that; see what she does. Probably try to knock your teeth out. Probably do it, too." He's not joking.

"I just don't think we should trust her right off the bat like this. Not till we know more about her."

"Kit, we don't have too many other options. Most of the other Riders are already gone. We need her on our side. I don't think . . . I don't think we can win without her."

I look into his eyes. I know **him** well enough to know that he means what he's saying. "I don't think she likes me, Len."

"She just hasn't gotten to know you yet." Is that a smile? It is! He's actually smiling! He doesn't do that too often. I should enjoy it while I can.

"Well, what are we gonna do with her, anyway? Where's she gonna sleep? The bathtub?"

"I was thinking maybe she could use your dad's room."

"What? No!"

"Why not? It's only for a little while."

"Just . . . no, okay? It's not . . . just no!"

"Okay," he says. "We'll work something out. There's got to be some place she can crash till this is over."

"You talk like it's going to be days, or weeks. If we do it at all."

"Don't say that. It'll be okay. Don't ever give up hope. Besides," he says, trying to lighten the mood, "we've got our own secret weapon now."

"She's that good?"

"You have no idea."

He does have a point. We could use all the help we can get, especially since we don't have Chris to back us up anymore. And we have to keep fighting, or his sacrifice doesn't mean anything. We have to keep going. Len's right; we can't afford to turn our backs on someone who can help us.

We come out of the bathroom and she's not there.

"Where'd she go?"

"She'll be back," Len says. "Let's just wait for her."

"You want the rest of the pizza?" I ask. "I can heat it up."

For a moment he says nothing. He's remembering that afternoon, not so long ago, when we sat around and enjoyed ourselves . . . and had no idea what was coming.

"No," he says finally. "I'll go get something. How do you feel about Mexican?"

"Sure." Casey or whatever her name is can have the leftover pizza when she comes in. If she does. I don't think she likes me too much.

"She's nice, once you get to know her," Len says. I must have been thinking out loud again. "She's the only person I ever knew who really got me. Adam was like a brother to me, but Kase and I understood each other so well, even when we were kids. She'll come around. Eventually."

"Eventually?"

"Yeah, that's the other thing. She can be kind of . . . stubborn."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Cause you're not like that at all."

He just smiles. "Set the table while I'm gone, will you?" He grabs his keys and heads for the door. "Set it for three. She'll be back."

"Okay." I guess he knows what he's doing. I'm glad one of us does.


	18. Together Again

I didn't have any trouble finding Kase. She'd found her way to my favorite spot on the rooftop, and was sitting on the edge, looking down at the city.

"How did you find this place?" I asked.

"I just followed your energy. You're all over this place."

"I don't mind sharing." I sat down beside her and flipped a lock of her blonde hair out of her eyes. I couldn't believe she was really here.

"I know. You never did. That's one of the things I've always liked about you."

I wanted so much to ask her where she'd been, what she'd been doing, all this time. What had really happened? But I couldn't just come out and say it. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answers yet.

"Why'd you take off? Because we were talking about you?"

"No. I just needed to . . . process things. We're in another **world**, Len! Doesn't that just blow your mind?"

"Wait till you see the movies," I told her. I had one in mind that I knew she was going to love, but it would have to wait.

"Movies? Is that what you've been wasting your time with, all this time? Instead of doing your job?"

"I've **been** doing my job! I've been . . . taking care of Xaviax's Riders while you were who knows where doing God knows what. Don't tell me about doing my job!"

"Venting them, you mean."

"They're the enemy. It's what we do." I can't look at her. All I can see is Kit's face when he handed me Spear's deck. I asked him if he was okay. I wonder if he'll ever be okay again.

"How many of them are left?"

It takes me a minute to do the math. "Six have already been vented. Two are on Xaviax's side. There's the three of us."

"That leaves one more."

"We don't know where he is, or whose side he'll be on."

"We need to find him. Now."

"Fine. I was gonna go get dinner, and we'll talk--"

"I mean you and me. Right now."

"We can't just leave Kit out of this."

"I'm not working with someone I don't even know. I don't trust him."

"He's a good kid. Come on, K. Give him a chance."

"And have him betray us, too?"

"That's unfair and you know it." I can't believe she's acting like this. "For someone with no training, he's come along surprisingly well. That's why I asked him to take Adam's spot. I did it because I believe in him. I believe he's got the right stuff."

"He's an amateur! You know nothing about this kid, you can't expect him to--"

"I know all I need to. He's good, Kase."

"I want to see for myself. If **I** think he's good enough, then he stays."

"Trust me, he's good enough."

"We'll see about that." She stands up, and I'm just watching her move. I remember the first time I saw her in the garden, practicing the Seven Forms, and I realized that she had hips now. Actual hips. I'd never noticed before how beautiful she was.

"I could use your help with the food," I tell her. "You like Mexican, right?"

"With extra-spicy salsa? Sure." There's that smile that can light up a room. I've missed that.

"Let's go, then. We'll talk when we get home."

"Home?" She looks at me, her head cocked to one side.

"I mean Kit's place. I've sort of been thinking of that as our home base, since I've been here."

"Oh."

"Just--go easy on him, okay? He's had to deal with so much, so fast. You can't expect him to learn a lifetime's worth of training in a few months. Don't expect too much of him."

"You really care about this kid, huh?" She's looking at me like she's never seen me before.

"He's my friend."

"And I'm your--"

I press my finger to her lips before she can say the word. "Yeah, I know."

"Does he know?"

"Not yet. I . . . I never talked about you much."

"You just forgot all about me, huh?" she says, teasingly.

"More like, I didn't want to think about it. I thought I'd lost you forever."

"I know," she says, looking down at her feet. "I tried not to hope too much. Just kept my mind on the job."

"We still have a lot to do," I tell her. "Starting with picking up dinner."

"We're back to that now?"

"I'm hungry. Last one home gets stuck with leftover pizza."

"That sounds like a challenge." Her eyes are twinkling. There's the girl I know and love. "Race you down the stairs!"

I laugh and run after her. Maybe this will work out after all. I can only hope.


	19. Moving In

"Let's get one thing straight," Kit said as he led me into the larger of the two bedrooms. "This is not your room. This will never be your room. This is just the room you're using while you're here. Got it?"

"Little dog has a loud bark," I said, looking around. "You must love your dad a lot."

"I do."

"You're lucky. I never even knew mine. He left before I was born." Nice colors. Earth tones. I grew up with pink everything, until I was about twelve and said enough already. Too much pink gets to be overpowering after a while. I liked the brown and cream of the bedspread and matching curtains.

A framed picture drew my eye. I put my bag down by the bed and walked over to get a better look at it. I thought it was Kit at first--it looked like him--but as I got closer I saw it was a magazine cover: _Motorcycle Weekly_, June 1985. Couldn't be him, then; he wouldn't even have been born.

"This your dad?" I asked.

"Yeah. He was about my age then."

"You look just like him."

"Thanks. It's my favorite picture of him."

"Len told me your dad's in the hospital. How is he?"

He shrugged. "He's . . . stable. No changes. At least I know he's safe."

"He's your weakness, though. Xaviax knows he can use your dad to get to you. He's done it once already."

"And it didn't work, so I doubt he'll try that again."

"You don't know what he's going to do. He's a devious son of a snake."

"I know. We'll figure something out. Um, dinner should be ready soon. Len's just got to heat the sauce."

"Since when does he cook?" As far as I know, he's never cooked a meal in his life. We had all our meals catered.

"He's learned. Just pasta, right now, but he made eggs one time, and they were . . . edible. Once we picked out all the bits of shell."

I had to laugh at that. Len's one of our best fighters, but the thought of that man in a kitchen made me chuckle. He thinks he's invincible, but the fact is, there are things at which he is no good at all. I was almost afraid to taste this pasta he had made.

"Okay," I said. "Let me just put my stuff away and I'll be right there."

"I emptied some stuff out of the top drawer for you," he admitted grudgingly.

"Thanks." I hoped it wasn't important stuff. I wouldn't want him to lose something irreplaceable.

Once he was out of the room, I opened my bag and dumped it out onto the bed. One change of clothes--check. Nightshirt (long, gray, and definitely **not** see-through--not that I was planning on walking around in it anyway)--check. Zachary, my bunny, who for some reason was now wearing a dress--check. I shook the bag, and something small and hard fell out. The wishing stone.

I picked it up and held it in my hand. It wasn't really a wishing stone; that was just the story we had made up, Len and I, when we found it on the beach that first summer of training school. It had fit perfectly in my palm back then, but now it seemed so small.

"_You close your eyes, hold it in your hand, and make your wish."_

"_Out loud?"_

"_No, in your head. Just think the wish. If you say it out loud, it won't come true."_

How old had we been, that day? Seven? Eight? Old enough to still believe in wishes. I didn't even remember what I had wished for, or if it came true.

What would I wish for now?

_Make everything okay. Make it not have happened. Bring us back to before everything all started, and have it happen differently this time. Please._

I opened my eyes . . . and found myself still in the room. Did I expect it to actually work? It was a rock, a fragment of stone, polished by the waves, not a magic wish machine. And I wasn't seven years old anymore.

"You still have that?"

Len had come in while I was making my wish. I looked at him a little sheepishly. "Yeah, I do. I was just thinking it would be nice if it worked. I'd wish that all this wasn't happening."

"Me too." He glanced over at the bed. "Why is Zach wearing a dress?"

"I thought you did that. As revenge for making you wear The Hat."

"I hated The Hat."

"I told you: you come to the tea party, you wear The Hat." He looked so cute in it, too.

"Dinner's ready."

"Did you actually cook?"

"Hey, I'm getting better. It's not crunchy or on the floor this time."

"How many times have you tried?" I ask.

"This will be the third, not counting the eggs."

"I heard about the eggs. You know you're supposed to take them out of the shells before you cook them?"

He actually blushed. It looked good on him. "I tried, really I did. It's harder than it looks. I just got tired of all my meals coming in a white paper bag. Give me a chance, K. I'll get the hang of it sooner or later."

"I hope so." I was worried that he might ask me to take a turn or two at it. I firmly believed that things like meal preparation should be left to the professionals, so that we could focus on the important stuff.

The plates were laid out on the glass coffee table, along with cups full of fizzy water. I took a sip; it was citrus flavor, my favorite. Len must have tipped him off, because I doubted he kept this stuff around for himself. My mental estimation of Kit went up a notch. If he was willing to go out and buy fizzy water just for me, he couldn't be all that bad.

He was sitting in the easy chair. Len sat on the couch, and I sat next to him.

"So," Len began, "here we are."

"Yeah." Kit didn't seem too enthused about it. I knew how he felt.

"Do we say the blessing, or what?" I asked.

"If you want," Kit shrugged.

For the life of me, I couldn't remember the one we had always used before meals. We had been so diligent about it as children, but then as we got older, we remembered it less and less. I didn't know the last time we'd actually had a meal together, let alone said the blessing before it. So I made something up.

"Um . . . bless us, O Lord, and this food which we are about to receive, and continue to bring blessings into our lives in days to come. Amen."

"Amen," they echoed, and we dug in.

It wasn't that bad. I was expecting something rubbery and tough, but it was actually edible. Well, they say third time's the charm. (We won't count the eggs.)

"This is good," I said. "We can add to the list of your awesome skills."

"I'm not awesome yet," he said.

"You're very awesome."

"Oh, get a room already," Kit grumbled.

"Lighten up, Junior," I snapped,

"Guys," Len said, trying to keep the peace. "We're all on the same side here."

"Whether we like it or not," I said under my breath. He heard me.

"Yes, whether we like it or not. But it doesn't have to be that way. Why can't we all be friends?"

"Fine," I said.

"Fine," Kit said, in the same resigned but resentful tone. He wasn't any happier about this than I was, but we both had to live with it.

"Just try, that's all I'm asking. You can do that, right?"

"I will if he will."

"Kit?"

He shrugged. "I guess."

"Okay then. Here's to getting along." And he raised his cup of fizzy water.

Well, whatever, I lifted up my own cup. "To getting along."

There was a moment when I thought Kit was going to say something nasty, but he was okay with it. "To getting along," he said, and we all bumped cups.

I realized this probably wasn't any easier for him than it was for me. Here he was, with his perfectly normal civilian life, and then all this crazy stuff happens. Mirrors and magic and monsters and everything. And just when he thought he had it figured out, in comes this strange girl who's all over his partner and sees him as a threat. No wonder he didn't like me.

_Okay_, I said to myself. _I'll try to like him. Even if he has no qualifications for this job whatsoever. Even if he thinks I'm an interloper in his home. I'll be nice to him. I'll try, anyway. Len trusts him, so he can't be all bad, can he?_

"So who does the cleaning up?" I asked.

They both looked at me.

"Oh, no," I said. "No!"

"Not because you're the woman," Len was quick to explain. "Because you haven't had a turn yet. We can sit down and work out the schedule later."

"Okay, I'll do it," I said, and started clearing the plates off the table.

"Hey!" said Kit. "I wasn't done yet!"


	20. Wake Up Call

_(Author's note: this is for Hikare Kame, who requested some Kit/Len. Here you go. It's short, but it should hold you till my next chapter is ready.)_

"We should go to bed now."

Kit looked up from the crime drama they were watching. "It's only nine-thirty!"

"I told you we'd get an early start tomorrow."

"How early?"

"Early."

"No, I want an exact time. **How** early?"

"How does five-thirty grab you?"

"**What**?"

"I said early."

"That's not even morning! That's practically the middle of the night!"

Len rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you went to bed before midnight once in a while . . ."

"Are you serious? Five-thirty?"

"I want to be ready and out of here by six."

"Man, I've never been up that early in my life."

"Quit complaining. You never would have made it through training school with that attitude." Len snatched up the remote and turned off the TV. "I'll wake you up at five-thirty."

"I can get myself up," Kit said. "I'll be ready, don't worry."

"Will you?"

Kit just looked at him, then he got up off the couch and went to his room. "I feel like I'm being punished," he called over his shoulder.

"Just go to sleep," Len said. He spread out the blankets on the couch, lay down, and was out like a light.

**********

Morning.

Len was awake well before five-thirty, owing to a lifetime of early-morning practices and training sessions. He could be dressed and ready to go in a matter of minutes.

But first he had to go get Kit. Who, predictably, was still asleep, and showed no sign of waking any time soon.

Len sighed, and nudged the younger man's exposed arm. No reaction. He nudged a little harder. Still nothing.

"Kit," he called. "It's five-thirty. Get up!"

Kit mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over.

Well, that was just great. Now what?

He flicked the light switch, hoping that the light shining in his face would finally spur Kit into action. No such luck. All he did was pull the covers over his head.

Len yanked them off. "Get **up**!"

"No school today," Kit muttered, and then buried his head under the pillow.

Len gave up. "Fine," he said. "I'll go get dressed. When I come back, you'd better be up."

He went into the bathroom and pulled on his jeans and a clean shirt, throwing the one he'd slept in into the hamper. Was he asking too much of a kid with no formal training?

No. He'd made it very clear last night that this was serious business. Kit joked around sometimes, but he could get serious when he had to.

_He said he'd be ready. Why isn't he ready?_

When he came back into Kit's room, the boy was still lying in the exact position as when Len had last seen him.

_Okay, that's it! You're getting up if I have to drag you out of bed myself!  
_He grabbed Kit by the shoulders and lifted him into a sitting position. "Come on," he said, "wake up already! Kit! I'm not telling you again--"

And then the clock radio blared into life with the opening notes of the Beatles' "Good Morning Good Morning." As if responding to some kind of inner programming, Kit's eyes flew open, and he stretched his arms over his head. Then he noticed Len, standing there with a look of utter astonishment on his face.

"Morning," he said.

"I've been trying to wake you for fifteen minutes! Didn't you hear me?"

"I didn't hear anything but the alarm." Kit reached for the clothes he'd laid out the night before. "I told you I could get myself up. Now, do you mind?"

"What? Oh, sure. I'll go, uh, make some toast."

Payback was due, but now was not the time. It was going to be an interesting practice session, that was for sure. In spite of his irritation, Len almost smiled.


	21. Beach Party

"Okay, that's it," Len said, a determined expression on his face. "I've had enough of this. No more." He got up and went to the window, throwing it open in an attempt to get some air into the sweltering apartment. "We really need to get a fan."

"We have a fan," Kit said. He was holding it in his hand. "I think it's your turn, anyway." He passed it over.

"Thanks," said Len, who held the tiny device dangerously close to his face. Even so, it didn't seem to be doing much good. "How can it still be eighty degrees at ten o'clock at night?"

"I don't know. Global warming?"

Len had never been in heat like this in his life. It wasn't just the heat, it was the humidity, which sucked the life right out of him. Having the window open did nothing but bring more of the heat inside, since the air outside wasn't moving at all. It was laying there like a dead body on the street.

_Where did that come from? _Len wondered. _Guess I'm watching too many crime shows. _He shook his head to clear it, and fanned himself some more. The little fan wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

"I know we had a fan here last year," Kit said. "I just don't know what Dad did with it when he put it away. I'll check in the--" There was a loud crash in the next room.

"What was that?"

"I don't know. I'll go find out." Kit went to check. Lying on the floor of the bedroom closet was the fan, which had fallen off the shelf, its cord stretched out behind it in a tangled clump.

_Please let it be okay, _Kit prayed, plugging it in to test it. It sputtered to life, blew cool air for about thirty seconds, then died with a bang and a cloud of black smoke.

"Great," Len said. "What do we do now?"

"Find an iceberg and tow it to the door?"

"One: we don't have a tow line. Two: we don't have a boat. Three: by the time we got up to the Arctic Circle and back again, it would be winter already."

"Ooh, winter," Kit said with a delightful shiver.

"Well, we can't wait that long." Len bent down and looked at the still-smoking appliance. "I think I can fix this."

"Could you?"

"Yeah. A motor's a motor, right? Where do you keep your tools?"

"Over on the work bench. Tell me what you need and I'll go get it."

"A screwdriver, to start with."

"Okay. Flat head or Phillips?"

He took a good look at the back of the fan. "Looks like flat will be okay."

"Okay, then." Kit went and poked around the work bench until he found a flat head screwdriver of the proper size. Just to be safe, he brought a couple extras.

"Thanks." With that, Len set to work taking the rear grill off the fan and examining the tiny motor. "I think I see the problem right here," he said, holding up a wire which had been frayed to the point of breaking. "We'll have to replace it. Do you have a flashlight?"

"In the drawer by the stove."

"Which one?"

"The one with the missing handle and the scratch across the face."

"Left or right?"

"Dude," Kit said, rolling his eyes. "How many drawers are there next to the stove with a scratch and a missing handle?"

"Right. Sorry. Still not used to this place." He wondered if he would ever know the apartment well enough to consider it home.

The flashlight was in the drawer, all right . . . but the batteries were dead. Whoever had used it last (and Kit realized with a twinge of guilt that it had probably been him) hadn't switched it off before putting it away.

"Looks like we need batteries, too."

"I'll put it on the shopping list," Kit said. "Guess we're going to the hardware store tomorrow."

"The question is, how do we get through tonight?"

"I don't know." The heat was so oppressive that it seemed like a living thing. Sleeping would be next to impossible, without some cool air blowing around. They needed to find another fan, or something--otherwise it was going to be a long night.

"Does it ever get hot like this on Ventara?" Kit asked.

"No, never. And the training school was climate-controlled, so it was always the same temperature." Then he remembered something. "Except once."

"What happened?"

"Something blew in the environmental controls, and it went up to nearly ninety. In December. We sat around and griped about it until they told us it couldn't be fixed for a few days, and then . . . we got creative."

"Creative? How?"

"We had a beach party."

**********

The Fabulous Indoor Christmas Beach Party had been the idea of a boy named Corrin, who had grown up in the desert and hadn't ever seen a beach, or even a single drop of rain, until he went away to school.

Corrin was only a year older than Adam, and the two of them had become fast friends at the beginning of the year. For Christmas break, they were planning a ski trip to the mountains, but that was still two weeks away.

So it was a big surprise when they woke up one morning to stifling heat in the dorms. All the thermostats were reading in the high eighties, and fiddling with them didn't do a thing to lower the temperature.

"Someone call Maintenance," said David, who had come out of his room in nothing but his boxers.

"They've been called already," said Jeremy. "They're working on it."

"And working on it means . . .?"

"The guy went down to the Environmental Control Station and started banging stuff. He said he'd let us know when he's finished."

"What are we supposed to do in the meantime?" Kase, who was wearing a beach cover-up over her nightie, asked.

"It's too hot to do **anything**," Brandon moaned. "I hope they fix it soon."

"We all do," Len said. "But right now, there's nothing we can do about it. At least not until the morning."

"It **is **morning," said Jaden.

"I mean later. When we've all had some more sleep."

"Who can sleep? It's way too hot!" It was practically ninety degrees in the dorm now, and if the environmental controls didn't get fixed soon, it was only going to get hotter. Everybody was grumbling and groaning about being hot and not being able to do anything about it.

Everybody, that is, except Corrin.

Corrin was just as hot as everyone else, but at least he was staying positive about it. While everyone else was too busy being miserable about the heat, he was thinking of things they could do to make the most of it.

One of his first ideas was to fill the pool with water and then dump a few million ice cubes into it. But that many ice cubes would be hard to come by, not to mention the problem of how to get them into the building, and he went to plan two: why not have a beach day? So what if it was December? They could have some pool floats and put up tiki torches and maybe even all wear Hawaiian shirts or something, to get into the spirit.

Corrin was definitely the kind of person who, handed lemons, would immediately start building a lemonade stand. His friends, however, were not quite as enthusiastic.

"How the fraz are we gonna get our hands on a wave generator?" David asked, toweling the sweat from his face once again. "And the tropical fish? You want **how** many?"

"Won't aquarium fish die in chlorinated water?" asked Jeremy.

"We could empty the pool," Corrin said, bouncing around in his enthusiasm, "and fill it with fresh water. Or ocean water, if we can get it."

"And how much will that cost?"

"Uh . . ."

"Corrin, you've never been to a beach in your life!" said Brandon. "What makes you the one to plan the perfect beach party?"

"Yeah," said Jaden. "What he said!"

Not far away, Donnie and Lee Tuan were watching the proceedings from a distance. They exchanged occasional comments, but as they only spoke Korean and only to each other, no one else understood them. It was clear, though, from their expressions and body language, that they didn't think much of the beach party idea.

"I think you might be on to something," Len said, trying to keep the peace, "but maybe you should scale it back a bit. I like the pool party idea, but maybe we can do it without the tropical fish and the wave generator. Maybe set up a volleyball net in the gym?"

Corrin's eyes sparkled. "Can we truck in some sand and spread it around on the floor?"

"Don't get carried away."

***

Before long, the word had spread to the entire school, and everyone was excited. They started to make calls to arrange for deliveries of pizza and drinks and stuff, while Corrin got the beach balls and towels and water toys. Everybody was so busy with the party planning that they forgot about the oppressive heat and the fact that Maintenance still hadn't fixed the environmental systems. In the end, even the Tuan brothers were swept up in the party excitement, and they helped with some of the setting up. They may not have spoken any English, but they understood it well enough.

By six o'clock that evening, everything was well underway. The gym was a wonderland of fake palm trees, beach blankets, umbrellas, and even a horseshoe-shaped bar at the edge of the fake sand. They weren't able to get the fake torches to stand up, but the strings of lights overhead more than made up for it. It was even better when the sun went down and there were just enough lights on to make the water glow like thousands of tiny diamonds were floating just under the surface. The kids had fun splashing each other and bouncing beach balls off the ceiling, the walls, and even the backs of each other's heads. Nobody seemed to mind.

Then they brought in the karaoke machine.

There's a reason that karaoke is mainly performed in bars; you have to be good and drunk to appreciate it properly. As the kids were all under the legal drinking age, the singing was less than perfect, but their enthusiasm made up for it. Mostly.

At the end of the night, Corrin took the mike and announced, "Okay, everybody, it's time for the big group singalong! The only way to end a proper beach party is with 'Surf Party Forever,' and for that we need eeevvveryone! Come on up here!"

At first, only two or three people were brave enough to join him in the song. But the mood was so jubilant that after a while, everyone started singing along. By the time the song was over, they were all huddled together, singing an endless final chorus. No one wanted to be the one to end the perfect night.

And then Adam said, "Hey, it's getting cooler in here."

"It **is** cooler," said Len. "I guess they fixed Environmental."

Corrin grabbed the mike. "Attention, lady and gentlemen: the heat is off! The controls have been fixed! Let's have a big round of applause for the good folks in Maintenance!"

The kids all broke out into spontaneous cheers.

"Thank you all for coming! We could use a couple of volunteers to help with the cleanup. Who's with me?"

"Why can't we just do it in the morning?" asked David.

"Cause in the morning, we'll be too tired! Now come on! I need about . . ." He looked around the room at the various jobs that needed to be done. "Six or seven people. Don't make me call you by name."

No one moved.

"I'll get out the 'Copacabana' tape!"

That did the trick. Anything was better than having to listen to Corrin murder "Copacabana". The kids worked hard to restore the gym to its former state in no time. Corrin stood by and supervised, offering words of encouragement and helping to sweep up the last of the debris. After two hours, he proclaimed the job finished, and they happily called it a night.

**********

"Okay," Kit said, wiping sweat from his face yet again. "Was there a point to that story, other than that karaoke can be used as a weapon?"

Len smiled at that. "There is a point. While everyone else was complaining about the heat, Corrin decided to do something positive about it. Something good can be made out of any bad situation."

"Yeah, but . . . we don't have a swimming pool or a volleyball net or any of that stuff."

"We can get the beach chairs out of the storage closet. Put on the Beach Boys and make some tropical punch. It's better than sitting here whining about things we can't change."

"I guess you're right. I don't know if we have any punch, but there's some packets of iced tea in the cabinet by the stove. We can sit and drink it in front of the TV. While I think of it. I'm pretty sure there's a squirt gun or two hidden away in one of the closets."

"Squirt guns indoors? Isn't that . . . messy?"

"It's just water. It'll dry. Come on, tap your inner Corrin and live a little! We'll have some pizza and play some games and just have fun! It was your idea in the first place!"

"I never said anything about squirt guns."

"We need something to keep cool! Now are you in or what?"

Finally Len gave in. "You get the squirt guns," he said, "I'll order the pizza."

"All right!"

It wasn't much of a party, as parties go. Two guys sitting in front of a "Magnum, P.I." marathon, drinking iced tea and eating pizza, isn't exactly the stuff of legends. But they had a good time. They even squirted each other when it got too hot. The point was the distraction, and there were enough distractions to keep both of them occupied until almost one o'clock in the morning. They were so tired that, in spite of the heat, they fell asleep where they sat.

Corrin would have been proud.


	22. Safe Haven

"Don't you think it's time we went to bed?" Kit said.

Kase looked at him.

"Um, not like that! I mean, separately! In different rooms!"

"I know. I'll be along in a minute."

"I mean, Len's asleep already. Look at him."

"I am." That's exactly what she was doing, standing there staring at his reclining form draped across the couch.

"How long are you just gonna watch him sleep?"

She shrugged. "I like watching him sleep. I always have."

"How far back are we talking here?"

"I think we were about . . . fifteen, maybe, the first time Len slept in my room."

"In your **room**? At fifteen? Didn't . . . someone . . . say something?"

She smiled at that. "It's not what you think. Let me tell you the story. It started the day Len met Corrin."

"Corrin of beach party fame?"

"Oh, you've heard about that?"

"Yeah."

"This was about a year or so before the beach party. It was a few months after Corrin came to training school. He grew up in the desert, and had never seen rain before . . ."

**********

Corrin was running around outside in the middle of a rain storm, jumping and splashing around like a four-year-old.

"That kid's crazy," said one of the other kids. Quite a crowd had gathered to watch Corrin's antics. "He'll drown if he stays out there too long!"

"I doubt that," said another boy, who had dark curly hair and unusually bright eyes. "He'll probably end up with a bad cold, though. Medics on standby."

"Someone ought to go bring him in," said a boy with strawberry blonde hair. "He needs to get out of the rain right now, the dummy. Someone go get him!"

"Fine, I'll go." With that, Len grabbed an umbrella from the coat rack and rushed outside to try to get this boy in out of the rain. Corrin was spinning around like a top and laughing so loud you could hear it all the way down the block.

"Hey!" Len called out. He didn't know the kid's name yet. "It's raining out here!"

"I know!" the boy said, stopping in place and swaying a bit. "Whoa! Guess that wasn't such a good idea."

"You're getting soaked! You should come in before you catch a cold!"

"That's a myth, you know."

"Why take the chance?"

"It's wonderful! Where I come from, it hardly ever rains! It's so cool and refreshing! Just a few more minutes, please!"

"I think you've been out long enough." The umbrella had a tiny hole in it, just enough to drip ice-cold rain water down the back of Len's neck. "Let's go in and dry off already."

"I guess so," the kid pouted. "It was fun while it lasted, though." He walked back to the outer door, squeezing under the umbrella and only half-fitting.

And guess who ended up with the cold? Not the one who'd been out in the rain all afternoon. The one who'd only been out for a few minutes. It just wasn't fair!

"Why me?" Len moaned. It only made his throat hurt worse. He needed a drink of water, now. He started to get up, and Corrin came rushing over.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Just getting some water."

"I'll get it! You get back in bed, right now!"

"Honestly, Corey, I'm fine--"

"Corr**in**. With an N. And you're not." He put his hand on Len's forehead. "You feel kind of warm. Adam, come here. Doesn't he feel warm?"

Len sighed. It was bad enough to have Corrin hovering over him out of a sense of guilt for getting him sick in the first place. But when Len's roommate insisted on helping out . . . the two of them were just too much.

"Yeah," Adam said. "He does feel warm."

"I'm warm," Len muttered, "because you guys piled five hundred freaking blankets on top of me!"

"I'll go get the thermometer," Corrin said.

"Uh, guys? I'm not dying. I'm not even comatose. You think you could get me something to drink now--ulp!" His words were cut off as Corrin shoved the thermometer into his mouth.

"He needs more medicine," Adam said, looking through the entire pharmacy worth of bottles on the bedside table. "What do we have for his current symptoms? What **are **his current symptoms?"

"Well, he's definitely got some serious congestion in his chest, judging by that cough."

What cough? Len had coughed **once, **maybe twice, all day.

"You're right, it does sound bad," Adam said. "I hope he doesn't have pneumonia or something. Maybe we should take him to the infirmary. He might need a shot of antibiotics--"

Corrin looked alarmed. "You don't think he could **die **from this, do you?"

"You never know, especially with a fever this high."

What fever? The thermometer hadn't even registered yet. Just as he was thinking that, it beeped, and Corrin took it out and looked at it.

"This isn't good," he said, showing it to Adam.

Adam looked at the thermometer and went into panic mode. "Whoa! It's worse than I thought!"

"What?" Len tried to see what the reading was, but Adam was holding it away from him. "What is it? How high?"

"Don't you worry about a thing." Adam patted him on the head. "You're going to be just fine. I'll make sure of it. What you need is some medicine to clear your sinuses and then a nice long nap--"

"Sleep sounds good," Len said.

"No, no, no," Corrin insisted. "He needs an immune booster and a cup of hot tea--"

"That won't do anything for the cough!"

"Once the immune response kicks in, the cough will clear right up! Let me go get the tea . . ."

"No, let **me** go get the medicine . . ."

Len had had enough of both of them. As soon as they were out of the room, he made a run for it, to the one place he knew he'd be safe.

Kase opened her door to find Len standing there, shivering and looking miserable. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Are you all right? You look a little flushed."

"I can't take it anymore," he said. "Corrin. And Adam--both of them. Hovering over me, smothering me. They act like I'm dying or something . . . K, I just need a quiet place to sleep for a while. I was hoping you'd let me use your extra bed, since you don't have a roommate anymore. You think you can let me hide out here till I feel better?"

He looked so pathetic, so worn out, that she couldn't turn him away. "Of course you can stay," she said.

"Thanks."

"Let me just turn the bed down for you and then I'll see if I can find you a fresh pillow. Allie took hers home with her when she left. I know there's one in the closet . . ."

There was, a nice fluffy one. She set it on the bed, turned the covers down, and then went to get Len some medicine from the bathroom. By the time she came back, he was already under the covers.

"I hope you don't mind the pink sheets," she said. "They're all I have."

"They're fine. Nice and soft. Besides, my eyes will be closed anyway, so it won't matter what color they are."

"True." She opened the medicine bottle and poured out a dose into the little plastic cup. "Take this and then you can go to sleep."

"You won't tell them I'm here, will you?"

"I'll have to, at some point," she said. "But I'll keep you hidden for as long as I can, until they come for you."

"Okay." He closed his eyes.

With that, she went to find him an extra blanket. She found one on the top shelf of the closet and carefully spread it over him. He was already asleep, looking so content and peaceful that she hated to wake him.

_He's so cute when he's sleeping_, she thought. _I wonder what it would be like to sleep right there beside him? Like if we were married, or something._

Suddenly she heard voices outside her door.

"Why would he be here?"

"I don't know! But we've looked everywhere else around this floor, and he's not anywhere!"

"What if he left the grounds?"

"He'd never make it that far. He wouldn't have the strength. I'm surprised he was strong enough to get out of bed."

"He could've gotten out if somebody helped him."

"How'd they get past us?"

"I don't know! Let's just find him before he falls down dead in a hallway somewhere, or has a seizure and no one's around to help him."

Quickly she moved the privacy screen to conceal the other bed and opened the door to find a very worried-looking Adam and Corrin staring up at her. "Problem, boys?"

"You know where Len is?" Adam asked.

"No . . ." she said.

"We have to find him!" Corrin insisted. "He could be dying right now!"

"Dying? What are you talking about?"

"Remember when I went outside in the rain, and Len came out and told me to come in? Well, he caught a really bad cold from it, and now he's practically at death's door, and it's all my fault, and we can't find him!"

It was all she could do to keep from glancing back at the screen, and what was hidden behind it. "Okay, calm down! I'm sure he's fine. Have you tried the infirmary?"

"First place we went," Adam said. "He's not there. He's not in the intensive care unit. He hasn't been sent to an outside hospital. Nobody we've asked has even seen him all day!"

"Maybe while you were out looking, he went back to bed. Try there."

"He's not there, I'm telling you!"

"Try anyway. Ask around some more, I'm sure someone must have seen him. Have you tried the Common Room?"

"Twice! He wasn't there!"

"Well, good luck. I'll let you know if he turns up." And before they could say another word, she shut the door. A promise was a promise.

Besides, she wanted to keep him all to herself for now.


	23. Safe Haven pt 2

LAST TIME:

_Kase opened her door to find Len standing there, shivering and looking miserable._

"_K, I just need a quiet place to sleep for a while. You think you can let me hide out here till I feel better?"_

"_Of course you can stay," she said. _

_***_

_Suddenly she heard voices outside her door._

"_You know where Len is?" Adam asked._

"_No . . ." she said. _

"_Nobody we've asked has even seen him all day!"_

"_Well, good luck. I'll let you know if he turns up." And before they could say another word, she shut the door. A promise was a promise._

_Besides, she wanted to keep him all to herself for now._

**********

"How sweet," Kit said. "When did they finally find out?"

"Not for a couple of days," Kase said. "See, I told Jeremy where Len was, just so there wouldn't be a massive search of the grounds, but I told him not to tell Corrin or Adam. A promise is a promise, right?"

"They must have been freaking out."

"They came pretty close. That's when I decided that enough was enough and I'd have to tell them."

***********

By the second day, when it looked like Len's stay in her room might be a bit longer than anticipated, Kase knew she couldn't keep this up much longer.

"I have to tell **someone**," she said. Her uniform jacket slipped off her shoulders, and she caught it before it hit the floor. "I'm worried those two might tear the whole place apart looking for you. I've managed to hold them off for now, but I don't think I can keep doing this. We have to let someone know where you are."

"One more day?" Len said. "By then I should be well enough to go back to my own room, and they can do what they like to me."

"I can't. You know I hate lying."

"Changing the subject isn't lying."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

"I just don't want to get caught up in any more of your crazy schemes. You're gonna get us in trouble."

"What crazy schemes?"

She looked at him. "That time you and Jeremy reprogrammed the training simulator?"

"We just enhanced the program."

"Oh, that's right. There weren't enough dinosaurs. And ninjas. And ninja dinosaurs."

"Okay, so we got carried away."

"You **think**?"

"Anyway, that was a long time ago."

"It was last year!"

"No, it was the year before--" He coughed a couple of times.

"I think you're due for some medicine now."

"That stuff knocks me right out."

"Really?" She went and got the bottle, and looked it over. "It's supposed to be non-drowsy."

"All I've done for the past two days," he said glumly, "is sleep."

"I thought that was what you wanted!"

"Yeah, but not **all **the time!"

She folded her arms and gave him a pointed look. "Don't you **want **to get better?"

"Kase, please . . . I came here to get away from being fussed over! Just leave it here and I'll do it myself."

She looked at her bedside clock. "You're right. I have to get to class anyway. I'll be back at lunch time."

"Books."

Halfway out the door, she dashed back and grabbed her book bag. "Whoops! Thanks, hon. I'll see you later."

"Yeah." Len settled back in the pink bed and eyeballed the medicine bottle for nearly ten minutes before deciding to bite the bullet and just take the stuff already. It tasted horrible, and smelled even worse, but it was the only thing that made him feel better. Well, that and Kase's tender ministrations. He never would have been able to relax if she hadn't let him stay, away from the boys and their constant bickering over how best to treat the pneumonia he didn't have or why his temperature was so high.

As soon as he had swallowed what was in the little dosage cup, he felt sleepy already. Why fight it, he decided, and spent the rest of the day in a state of blissful unconsciousness.

When he finally woke up, late in the afternoon, he found that he and Kase had company.

"Hey, buddy," Jeremy said. "How are you feeling?"

**********

Kase had made up her mind to tell someone about Len's presence in her room, but she wasn't sure who to tell. It had to be someone who could be counted on not to spill the beans at the wrong moment, and also someone who wouldn't report her for having a boy in her room. Technically, it was against the rules, but if she could just keep him hidden for another day or two, no one would ever find out.

The real trick would be to find someone who would keep quiet about her visitor and also be of some help to her, if she needed it. Who could she ask to do that for her?

"Something on your mind, K?"

"A lot of things, really," she said, before she noticed who it was.

"You've been late for class all day," Jeremy said. "And yesterday you didn't even make it to Elementary Biology. What's going on?"

If there was anyone she could trust, here he was. "If I tell you," she said, "do you promise to keep it a secret?"

"Why?" he asked. "What's going on?"

"Maybe I'd better show you. Come with me."

"Sure. Where?"

"To my room."

"We'll get in trouble, you know."

"Not if you keep quiet about it. Come on."

They walked across the hall to the one single room in the entire dorm, that wasn't actually a single anymore. Kase went in first, to let her roomie know that they had company, and found him asleep in her own bed. He was so pale and still that he looked, at first glance, as if he were at death's door.

But when she took a closer look, she saw that he was just worn out from his illness and the activity of the last few days. He turned over on his side and snorted once before settling down to sleep again.

She tiptoed out and closed the door quietly. Going back to Jeremy, she told him, "He's sleeping. Out like a light. We should come back later."

"You sure?"

"I told him I'd bring him lunch. That's only an hour away. We'll try again then."

"Okay. I guess I'll meet you back here then."

"OK."

With that, the two of them went to their next class by separate routes. When it was over, they re-connected just outside the main cafeteria. They weren't aware of it, but when they left, they were not alone.

"See? I told you she knew where Len was hiding!" Corrin whispered. "We follow her and Jeremy, they'll lead us right to him!"

"I don't know, Cor," Adam said. "What if they're on to us, and they lead us off in the wrong direction?"

"They're **not** on to us! Just be quiet!"

"I can't help it! I'm hungry! Why couldn't we have got some food first before we followed them?"

"Cause we don't want to lose them! Now come on!"

They were headed for the dorms, it looked like. But the boys had already checked there. They'd asked everyone they could find, and no one had seen Len or knew where he was.

Finally they came to a stop in front of the door to Kase's room.

"Listen," said Corrin to Jeremy, "we know you know where Len is. Tell us now, and we won't tell anyone about Kase letting you into her room. You don't want to get in trouble, do you?"

"If you told them about any of this, then you'd have to explain why you two are following us around and listening in to private conversations that are none of your business."

Both boys looked at the floor, guilty expressions on their faces. After a long pause, Corrin said, "But we just wanted to help!"

"Yeah, but there's a line between helping and being annoying. And from what I've heard, I think you crossed the line.

"You sure?" Adam was looking at him with those huge blue eyes that were full of childlike innocence.

"All he wanted," Kase said, "was to have a little peace and quiet and a chance to get some sleep. I know you boys meant well, but you sometimes get a little carried away with yourselves. I'm asking you to just take it down a few notches, that's all. Think you can do that?"

"I guess so," Corrin said. "I just wanted to make up for getting him sick in the first place."

"I can understand that," said Jeremy. "We'll call you when--"

Suddenly there was a loud thud from inside the room. "What was that?" Adam asked.

"He probably fell out of bed," Kase said, without thinking.

"He who?" asked Corrin. Then his eyes went wide. "You've been hiding him in your room all this time! You lied to us!"

"Can we talk about this later?"

"No! You can't just **lie **to us and get away with it! You have to tell us what is going on with you and Len, or else I'll go and get one of the teachers, and you can explain it to **him**."

"Hold it right there," said Jeremy. "I already explained to you why that wouldn't work. You'd get in as much trouble as we would. Remember that?"

"I don't care! You can't do this! You **lied**--"

"Corrin," Adam said, "this isn't helping! You're just making things worse!"

"**I'm **making things worse?"

"Yeah, just back off already! Or else I'll tell everyone that you were faking all those times you got out of class by saying you had a stomachache!"

"You wouldn't." Ratting out a classmate was the worst, most unforgiveable sin there was.

Kase sighed. "Blackmail all around. Look, little boys, you can have your playmate back tomorrow. Until then, go amuse yourselves somewhere else."

"You won't tell?" Corrin asked nervously.

"Not unless you keep bothering me."

"We're gone." Adam grabbed Corrin by the hand and dragged him away. Corrin ranted and raved all the way to the elevator about how Jeremy was going to be in **so **much trouble . . .

"Crazy kid," Jeremy said. "I hope he didn't wake Len up."

"I'll go check. You wait here and guard the door, in case anyone else comes to find out what that was all about." Kase ducked inside the room, and was out quickly. "He's still out. We should come back later."

"What about his lunch?"

"I left it beside the bed. I can always heat it up later." She smiled and said, "I'm in the mood for some sparring. How about you?"

"I don't know," Jeremy said. "I wouldn't feel right hitting a girl."

"You're just afraid I'll hit harder than you do."

He took that for the challenge that it was. "We'll see who hits harder!"

***

Two and a half hours later, they called it a draw.

"I'm going to take a shower," Jeremy said. "I'll meet you back here when I'm done."

"Okay." Kase waved goodbye to him as she turned the corner . . . and found Corrin waiting for her outside her room.

"I wanted to apologize," he said. "I was kind of . . . kind of a . . ."

"It's okay," she said. "I think everyone got a bit emotional there. No harm done."

"Is he still--?"

"I'll check. You wait here."

"Can I come in with you?"

"I'll only be a second."

"Please?" The boy looked at her with wide eyes. "I just want to make sure he's okay. That's all."

"Let me see if he's still asleep first," she said. "Be right out."

Corrin dutifully stood guard outside the door, keeping watch for anyone who might see and report them. When she came out a moment later, he was relieved.

"I swear he hasn't moved all day," she said with a smile. "You can come on in, but just be quiet about it."

Corrin nodded and followed her inside, pulling the door closed behind him.

The first thing that struck him was that there was a lot of pink . . . but it was only on one side of the room. The other side was black and white. And Len was on the pink side of the room, tucked into a little pink bed. Corrin wanted to laugh, but he didn't dare.

"Okay, you've seen him," Kase whispered. "Can we go now?"

"That should be me," the boy murmured. "I'm the one who should have gotten sick. He was trying to help me, and . . ."

Kase put her arm around the boy's shoulders. "He's fine," she said. "He'll be just fine. Don't worry about it." She gently steered him out of the room . . . right into Jeremy.

"Hey!"

"Sorry!" she said. "Wasn't paying attention."

"What's he doing here?"

"I wanted to apologize," Corrin said. "For being a brat. I was just worried."

Jeremy nodded. "No harm done, then. Run along."

"You're not mad?"

"Not anymore. Scoot."

Corrin took the hint and scooted.

"Is he still asleep?" Jeremy asked Kase.

"Yeah. He should be waking up soon, though."

"We could go in and wait for him."

"I suppose."

They didn't have to wait long. Ten minutes later, Len opened his eyes.

**********

"Well, that was--" Kit started to say, but was interrupted by a huge yawn.  
Kase shook her head. "Go on," she said. "Don't let me keep you up any longer."

"Finish the story first."

"That's it. He woke up, he got better, he left. The end."

"What about when--" Another big yawn.

"Kit, go to bed."

"What about you?"

"I'll be along. Don't worry about me. You just go to bed before I have to carry you."

Kit rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'm going!"

"See you in the morning," Kase said, watching him walk away.

She really should be going to bed herself, but she thought she'd sit here for just a few more minutes. Thinking of the days when they had been young and innocent and had no troubles at all.

Thinking of a life they would never have again.


	24. Nurse Kase

"Oooooooooohhhhh Goooooooooood . . ." Len moaned. "I'm gonna diiiiiiiiiiie . . ."

"You are not gonna die." I can't understand men and their overblown histrionics whenever they're the least little bit under the weather. "It's just a touch of food poisoning, that's all. You'll be over it in no time."

"Feels like my entire insides are trying to come up--oh, God, here we go again . . ."

I grabbed the bowl that we were using as a temporary receptacle and held it under his chin. It was a good-sized bowl, but when he was done, it was almost full.

The bowl was necessary because Kit had taken up permanent residence in the bathroom. Poor kid had it at both ends, and what little he drank wouldn't stay down.

I emptied the bowl in the kitchen sink, and rinsed both bowl and sink out really well before bringing the bowl back and setting it on the table beside the couch. "Why don't you just sleep? You always sleep a lot when you're sick."

"I've tried. I can't get more than a few minutes at a time before it all starts up again."

"I told you not to order the fish."

"Oh, sure, blame the victim."

"Did you at least finish your juice?"

"I think there's a little bit left."

"Finish that off, and I'll bring you some more after I go check on Kit."

"I'll try," he promised.

I went and tapped on the bathroom door. "Hey, you alive in there?"

"Nnnnnnnn," was his only answer.

"Can I come in?"

"What? No!"

"Oh, come on. I grew up surrounded by guys. You don't have anything I haven't seen before."

"It's not that. It's . . . the smell. I sprayed air freshener like five times already, and it still stinks in here."

"I can handle it."

There was a click as he unlocked the door. I turned the knob and stepped in.

He wasn't kidding about the smell. Void and darkness, it was awful. And the Ocean Breeze air freshener he had sprayed around hadn't done a thing to cover it up. At least he had a window open.

He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, looking pale and miserable. His face was kind of a gray-green and I could see sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked up as I came in. "Last time we call **that **place."

"I'll lose their number," I promised him. "Kit, you should go to bed. You'd be more comfortable in bed."

"I'm okay," he insisted.

All of a sudden, there was this thick, gurgling noise in the base of his throat, and he lurched forward just in time. I couldn't watch. I found a dried-up washcloth that looked pretty clean and wet it under the bathtub faucet. When he was done emptying his insides, I used it to wipe his face down.

"You don't have to stay here with me," he grumbled.

"Can you walk back to your room, or do you need help?"

"Help? It's a whole four feet. I don't need—" Then he got up and started wobbling back and forth. I put out a hand to steady him, and he shrugged it off. "I can do it!"

I hadn't seen Kit's room before. Where his dad favored earth tones, Kit preferred bold colors: black and red bedspread, dark blue carpet, bright green walls. There were curtain rods across both small windows, but no actual curtains. I wondered what had happened to them.

When he struggled with the bed covers, I peeled them back for him. "I'll get you a bowl or something," I offered.

"Better get two."

"We'll see." I left him to settle in and went back to see how Len was doing.

He was leaning back against the arm of the couch, his pillow long since having slid to the floor. The bowl was full again. Great. Carry, empty, rinse, repeat. I could see how my day was shaping up already, and it didn't look like a lot of fun.

"How is he?"

"What?"

"Kit. How is he?"

"Not good. But at least he's in bed now."

"Did he drink anything?"

"Did you?"

"You saw what happened when I did."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't keep drinking." I refilled his juice glass, hoping I wouldn't see it again too soon. "Now get to work on that, and I'll be back in a bit."

"Where are you going?" He propped himself up on his elbows and twisted around to look at me.

"Just to the store. We need some stuff. Did you block the mirrors and windows already?"

"Yeah."

"Couldn't hurt to do it again, though, just in case." I went around and did so, making sure to get every reflective surface big enough for someone to climb through. Then I grabbed the spare key from the top of the door frame (I had yet to receive one of my own), and went out.

When I came home, toting my bags full of goodies, Len wasn't on the couch. Great.

"Len?" I called. He didn't answer. "You in the bathroom?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep!" Kit complained.

I poked my head in the door. "You know where Len is?"

"I thought he was on the couch."

"Well, he's not now."

"You don't think he went out, do you?"

"He couldn't," I said. "He could barely sit up. He has to be here somewhere."

"You try the laundry room?"

"Where's that?"

"Just off the kitchen. Now get out of here and let me sleep already!"

"Fine." I took the fact that he was able to get some rest as a good sign. At least the internal eruptions seemed to have let up, for now.

I had seen the door in the kitchen, but hadn't thought to ask where it led. Now I pushed it open and looked around the tiny laundry space. It was unoccupied except for the washer, dryer, and a white basket full of folded clothes. No Len. Now I was really getting worried.

Could he have gone outside? No, I would have seen him when I came in, wouldn't I?

And then I remembered where Len usually hid out when he was sick.

He was in my--the other bedroom, the covers pulled up across his chest, Zachary tucked peacefully in beside him. Blessed Ventara, I wished I had a camera. He looked so sweet and childlike that I wanted to crawl in beside him and cuddle him. But I couldn't; I had work to do.

I went and got the bowl, and put it on the bedside table, and I got a bowl for Kit, too, in case he needed it. He was sleeping at last, so I took care not to wake him again.

Then I went and sat down on the couch to see if there was anything good on TV. I turned the volume down as low as I could. Afternoon TV offered nothing of any interest whatsoever: news, cartoons that made me cringe, some lady in a black robe mouthing off at a courtroom full of people. Nothing that I recognized.

Around six o'clock, I went in to check on the boys again. Len was awake when I came in. "Hey," he said.

"Hey. How're you feeling?"

"Better, I think. Things are beginning to settle down now."

"Good. Do you think you could handle some soup, if I made it for you?"

He sat up and looked at me. "You? Make soup?"

"There are directions on the back of the can. I'm good at following directions."

"If you say so." He didn't sound too convinced.

"Hey, if you can cook, anyone can."

"Yeah, we'll see about that."

"We sure will. I'll go get it started as soon as I check on the kid. Seems awfully quiet in there."

"He's been up since three in the morning. Let him sleep."

"I will. I'll be quiet, I promise." I looked at him, snuggled up in the bed like a four-year-old. "You know, you look pretty good, for a guy who was dying this morning."

"You were right, I just needed to sleep." He slid back down under the covers. "I may go back to sleep."

"After you eat. Shouldn't be too long."

"Yeah, when the smoke alarm goes off."

"I think I liked you better when you were dying," I said, and left the room.

Kit was still sleeping when I looked in on him. He'd kicked his blankets off, like a little kid. I straightened them and got a good look at him. He was still a bit pale, but his color was beginning to come back. I reached down and felt his forehead. He seemed a bit warm, but not enough to be concerned about.

He needed to drink something, though. I brought him a cup of water from the bathroom, and nudged him until he woke up. "Kit? I need you to drink this for me."

"Don't want to."

Void save me from sick, stubborn men. One of them was bad enough. Having to deal with two at once was impossible.

"Just one quick thing and then I'll leave you alone, I promise."

"All right, I'll drink it! Just back off already!" He gulped the water down all at once, which turned out to be a mistake a few minutes later when it all came back up again. Luckily I was there with the bowl in time.

"You happy?" he muttered.

"I'll be back later," I said.

I stomped out of his room and back to the living room, where Len was waiting for me. "He giving you a hard time?"

"Yeah. Reminds me of someone else I know." I went poking through the cabinets for the two cans of soup I **knew** I had seen before.

"I put them on the counter for you."

"You didn't have to do that. You didn't need to move, either."

"It's getting late. You're going to want your own room back."

"I wouldn't have made you move. Not if you're sick."

"Really, I feel a lot better now." He had the TV on and was watching a _Star Trek_ rerun. I opened the can of chicken noodle, dumped it into a saucepan, and set it on the burner.

He stretched out on the couch. I came over, picked up the pillow from the floor, and tucked it behind his head.

"You need a blanket?"

"No, I'm good."

"Okay." I went back to the stove and stirred the pot a few times, turning the heat down. How long did soup take to heat, anyway?

"That smells good," Len said.

"You hungry?"

"Actually, yes. I think I might even be able to keep it down, too. Is it almost ready?"

"I think so." I lifted the spoon to my lips. "Ow! Yeah, it's ready."

I searched the cabinets until I found where the plates and bowls were kept. I took down two bowls, put them on the counter, and filled them up.

"Careful, it's hot," I said to Len, as I set his bowl on the coffee table.

"Okay." He blew on it before he swallowed a spoonful. "Hey, this isn't bad."

"I told you I can follow directions."

"I guess you can."

"You know where the plastic wrap is? I want to cover this and put it away. I promised Kit I would let him sleep."

A horrible noise came from the bedroom. "Well, I've heard of people doing lots of things in their sleep," Len said, "but I don't think that's one of them."

"I don't understand it. He hasn't had anything in hours. How can he have anything left?"

When I went in, Kit was hanging off the edge of the bed. He'd missed the bowl entirely. I tucked him back into bed, and then got a damp towel from the bathroom to try and clean up the mess.

"Is he all right?" Len asked, when I came back out.

I shook my head. "I don't know what to do. He needs to drink something, but he's still throwing up. If only he could get something into his system . . ."

Len got up and came into the kitchen. "I know just the thing," he said, opening the freezer. "Where are they? I know I bought a full box the last time I went shopping--ah! Here they are!"

"Popsicles?"

He held one up. "Does this look like grape to you?"

"I don't know. Open it."

"I can't open it!"

"Just a little bit, at the bottom. Just so you can see what color it is."

He very carefully tore through the paper wrapper and looked. "Good, it's grape. Let me bring it to him."

"I'll do it."

"You've done everything. Take a break. I've got it."

"Well, at least let me come with you."

Kit had kicked his blankets off again. Adam used to do that, especially when he was sick.

"Hey, buddy," Len said softly. "I brought you something."

Kit opened his eyes a crack. "Wuzzit?"

"It's your favorite."

His eyes focused on the long, slender object before him. "Grape?"

"The last one. All yours." He reached out with it, and for a second, I thought he might just drop it onto the bed. But Kit was awake enough to grab it and slide it into his mouth.

"Mmmm," he sighed, purple juice dripping down his chin. I wiped it off with a tissue.

"You finish that," I said, "and I'll bring you another one. And then maybe we'll try some soup? It's good."

"Uh huh." He nodded, and, satisfied that he was going to be okay, Len and I left the room.


	25. A Boy, a Girl, and a Hat

"Isn't this great?" I said to Kit. "Girls' night out means guys' night in. We haven't done this in a while."

"No, we haven't."

Tonight it was just the two of us. Kase had gone to a movie with Maya and Lacey, in an attempt to make nice. We were watching _A Hard Day's Night_ and sharing a carton of ice cream.

"So tell me," Kit said. "You and Kase . . . you've known each other your whole lives?"

"Almost. We were about seven, when we met. We were the first two kids at the training school, and I think we bonded right away."

**********

"You're a jerk!" the little blonde girl screamed, threw a handful of crushed flowers at me, and stomped off.

Okay, so it wasn't **right** from the beginning.

Let me go back a bit. I was not happy to be here. I had really had high hopes that Helene and Jerry would be the ones, the family I ended up staying with for more than a few months. I really liked them. Helene had gotten me into martial arts lessons, which I loved, and Jerry had taught me how to fix motorcycles, which I also loved. I wanted to stay with them so bad, and then all of a sudden I was yanked out of school and dragged to this strange place because I was "chosen". Chosen for what? Why? And didn't **I** have a choice in the matter?

And then this little girl comes up to me and says, "Hi, you wanna flower?"

She was holding a bunch of dandelions she had just pulled out of the ground. I looked at them, and then at her.

"What are those for?"

"Cause flowers are pretty!"

"Those are weeds!" I snapped at her. Yeah, it was kinda unfair to take out my frustrations on someone I'd just met, who didn't even know what it was that I was upset about, but I didn't care. I suppose that I thought, somewhere in the back of my brain, that maybe if I really acted up, they'd send me back to Helene and Jerry, where I really wanted to be.

"I think they're pretty," she said, holding them out. "Take them!"

I reached out and squished the flowers in my hand. "Leave me alone!"

And that's when she called me a jerk and stomped away. And I have to admit, I deserved it.

***

It wasn't until later that night that I decided to apologize to her. It was more out of a sense of loneliness than actual regret; I didn't want to have no one to talk to at this place. There were only the two of us right now, so either I made up with her, or I would spend all my time alone.

I went to her room and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

"Um . . . it's me," I said, wondering if she would remember me.

"Me who?"

Was she playing around, or did she really not remember? "From this afternoon? I'm sorry about the flowers. They were nice."

The door opened, and she yanked me inside. "Hurry up! You're just in time!"

"For what?" I asked.

"For the tea party! Oh, you have to wear The Hat."

I swear, I heard her pronounce the capital letters. "Hat? What hat?" I asked, and then a giant frilly monstrosity was jammed over my eyes. I pulled it off and looked at it.

The Hat was a fancy lace picture hat, about four feet wide, in a lovely lavender shade. It had pink roses around the crown and a feather sticking up in the back.

I handed it back to her. "I don't wanna wear the hat."

"You have to! If you come to the tea party, you have to wear The Hat!" And she plunked it right back on my head.

"Sit down! Tea's almost ready."

I took a seat between a huge red bear and a little fleecy bunny, feeling really, really embarrassed. At least there was no one else around to see me in all my lacy-hatted, stuffed-animal-loving glory.

"This is Pedro," she said, indicating the bear, "and this is Zachary."

"Hi," I mumbled.

The girl leaned forward and whispered, "You have to tell them your name now."

"Why?" I asked.

"Cause **I** can't introduce you, cause I don't know your name."

It was then that I realized I didn't know her name either. "Oh. Um . . . I'm Len."

She held the bear's paw and waved it at me. "Hi, Len!" she said in a weird voice.

"Hi, Zachary," I said, feeling more and more foolish by the second.

She giggled. "That's Pedro! **This** is Zachary, here!" She waggled the bunny's ears.

"Oh, sorry."

"And I'm Kase."

"Casey?"

"No! Just Kase."

"Why just Kase?"

"Why are you just Len?"

I just shrugged.

All of a sudden she stood up. "I forgot the tea! Wait right here, I'll be back."

It wasn't really tea, of course; it was water, in little plastic cups. But I played along anyway. The only problem was, every time I went to take a sip, that stupid hat--excuse me, Hat--would get in my way. I wanted to just rip it off and throw it on the floor, but she was watching me, and I knew that if I did that, I wouldn't be invited to another tea party again, ever. I didn't want to be all alone.

"More tea, Len?" she asked, holding up the pot. It was made of the same colored plastic as the cups.

"No, thanks," I said. "I should be going."

"Bring your animal next time!" she said.

"I, um . . . I don't have one," I admitted.

"Why not?"

"I left it behind two families ago. Never replaced it."

"Oh, that's so sad." She plucked something fuzzy off her bed and handed it to me. "This is Zachary's sister Annabelle. You can borrow her until you get one of your own."

"Thanks," I said. Annabelle looked just like Zachary, except that she had a flower in between her ears, and she had a dress and fake patent leather shoes on. I thought it was awfully girly, but I wasn't about to insult her by handing it back. It wasn't like I was going to sleep with it or anything.

I never did give Annabelle back. I think I lost her when we moved into the Tower, but I slept with that bunny for the next six years.

***********

At this point, Kit was rolling around on the floor in hysterics. "Oh, man!" he gasped, in between fits of helpless laughter. "I can just see you in that hat . . ."

"We do not speak of The Hat," I warned him. "Not to anyone."

"And she gave you a **girl** bunny! Oh, my God . . ."

"We were seven years old! I only kept it for sentimental reasons!"

"Tea parties . . . oh, God . . ." And he was off again.

I heard the click of a key in the lock. I had finally made a copy of my key (since Kit seemed to have forgotten about it) and given it to Kase just days before. I heard female voices chattering happily. Must have been a good movie.

I stood up as they came in. Kit was still lying on the floor, trying to catch his breath. "Hey, how was the movie?" I asked.

"It was great," she said. "So, you girls want to come in for a minute?"

Lacey and Maya looked at each other, and came to the same conclusion at once. "Um, we should really be going," Maya said.

"Yeah," Lacey said quickly. "Stuff to do. You know."

Kase walked them to the door. "Okay, then. I'll call you."

"Bye, guys!" Maya said, as she and Lacey went out the door.

"So," Kase said, as she flopped down on the couch beside me, "what have you been up to?"

"Not much," I said. "Just talking about . . . things."

"What kind of things?"

"Old childhood memories," Kit said.

Kase looked down at him. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"I fell," he said.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged. "Okay. What childhood memories? Anything good?"

"Not really," I said, trying to change the subject quickly. "Want some ice cream?"

"No, thanks, I'm stuffed full of popcorn."

"You getting along okay with the girls?" Kit asked her.

"Yeah, I guess so. But, you know, bonding is okay, but sometimes it's nice to come home to someone who understands me."

"And looks good in a frilly hat."

Kase turned on me. "You told him about The Hat?"

I grinned. "Now you've got nothing to blackmail me with."

"Oh, I've still got plenty of blackmail material!"

"I think," Kit said, getting up, "you two should work this out between yourselves. I'll be in my room." And he took the rest of the ice cream with him.


	26. Bride of the Alien Conqueror

**Bride of the Alien Conqueror**

**by AliensAteMyBMW**

**It had only been a few months since Maya's life had changed forever.**

_Wait a minute! Why is my name in this?_

**Ever since she had found out the truth about the world behind the mirrors, on that day when the mysterious man in the black sunglasses had saved her from a fate worse than death . . .**

_What __**is **__this? Who wrote this, and how do they know about--_

On a hunch, Maya checked the profile for AliensAteMyBMW.

It was blank.

_Well, that figures. He doesn't want me to know who he is._

_Or she. What if it's Michelle? How could she __**do **__this to me? Ooh, when I catch up with her I'm gonna--_

_Okay, okay, calm down. Deep breath. Read the rest of the story, and see if it's even that bad._

She read on.

**It didn't matter to her that Len was from a different world. He was her protector, her guardian, and that was all she cared about. Ever since that night he had stayed at her place, after he got hurt in a battle--**

_No, that's not right! He stayed at Kit's place, not mine! Where is Kit, anyway? _

She scanned the rest of the story, but she didn't see Kit's name at all. What was going on here?

And then her eyes stopped on something that she had to read twice to believe.

**"She will be mine!" Xaviax thundered.**

**"Let go of me!" Maya cried, trying to break free. "I don't love you, I love Len! I'm having his baby!"**

_**What?**_

She skipped back a bit until she found the first mention of this baby:

**Tonight was the night she would tell him. Tell him that he was going to be a father. He'd wanted a family for so long, and now he would finally have one.**

Oh, boy. Kase was not gonna be happy when she saw this.

Maya wasn't supposed to use the book store's printer for personal business, but she needed physical evidence of this . . . this . . . whatever it was, in case it disappeared from the site. She plugged the printer cable into her laptop and printed out two copies, just to be on the safe side. Then she stapled them together and hid them under the counter to look at after her shift.

And then she would find out who sent her the link for this trash, and have it out with them.

That was nothing compared to what she'd do to the author.

* * *

"What's that?"

Maya hastily covered the printout with her arms. "Nothing."

"No, come on, let me see." Kit tried to get a look at the pages, but she kept blocking him. "What? Is it your super-secret diary or something?"

She sighed. "I guess you might as well see it. Since it **is** on a public site, and all." She slid the printout over to him.

Kit's reaction was . . . amused, mostly. "Does Len know you want to have his baby?"

"I didn't write it!" she snapped.

"You didn't? Well, who did?"

"I don't know. I wish I did."

"Where'd you find it?"

"Someone sent me the link. It's on Aliens Among Us dot com. They have a fiction archive. This is actually tame compared to some of the stuff I saw there. Tentacles . . ."

She shuddered at the memory.

"'"You will be the queen of two worlds," the alien said, slipping an arm around the frightened girl. "I can give you the universe--"' Oh, brother!" Kit said, snorting with laughter. "This dialogue is beyond lame!"

"It's not funny!" Maya exclaimed. "I want to know who wrote this about me!"

"Well, it's probably not a professional author. It reads like a bad romance novel."

"Lacey reads a lot of romance novels! I'll call her right now." Maya whipped out her cell phone and pulled up Lacey's number from her address book.

"Hey, girl, what's up?"

Maya did her best to keep her voice even. "Have you been on the Aliens Among Us archive lately?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Someone sent me a link to a story about me and Len."

"Oh, you got it!"

"What?"

"I saw that, you know, browsing around. I thought you should see it, so I e-mailed you the link."

"You mean you didn't write it?"

"Would I do that to you? I did want to give you a heads-up, though. So what'd you think?"

"I think that the person who wrote this should be--"

And then she heard a key in the front door lock. "I gotta go, that's Kase and Len with dinner. I don't want them to find this."

"Okay. I'll see what I can find out about the author. See ya."

"Bye." Maya clicked off and shoved the pages into a drawer just as Len and Kase came through the door, carrying paper bags full of something that smelled fantastic.

Kit was still reading. "'The Alien Fighter reached for his beloved, but the evil alien held her out of his reach. "No she is mine!" he cried out in anguish. "You shall never have her!" the alien thundered.'"

"**What** are you reading?" Kase asked wryly.

"It's this funny thing that Maya found on some alien site." Kit read another passage. "'The frightened girl pleaded with her eyes for her lover to rescue her. The life of their unborn child depended on it.' This stuff's hilarious. Oh, oh, this is the best part! '"No, Len! Run! Save yourself!" Maya cried out as she--'"

"Give me that!" Kase snatched the pages away from him.

"Hey! I was reading that!"

But she was already scanning the pages, an expression of disbelief on her face. "What **is **this?"

"What is what?" Len put the bags down on the counter and came over to see what all the fuss was about.

"It's a story," Maya said. "It's on a fiction archive . . . Lacey found it and sent me the link."

"Who wrote this?" Kase demanded.

"That's what I'd like to know!" Maya started pacing back and forth. "How could they **do** this to me? This is awful!"

"Yeah, but in a funny way," Kit said.

She turned on him. "You wouldn't think so if it was about you!"

"Take it easy, Maya! It's only a story!"

"A story that has my name in it! Someone who **knows **me did this! I bet it's Michelle. She's such a--arrgh!" She flopped on the couch with a sigh of annoyance. "Wait till I get my hands on her . . ."

Kase was still reading--and what she saw, she didn't like at all. "Len," she said, "could I have a word with you?"

"Sure," he said, still reading over her shoulder.

"In private?" She jerked her head towards the hallway to the bedrooms.

"Oh. Okay."

Once they were safely behind the closed door, Kase began, "Len . . . you know I'm not the jealous type."

"Well, you've never had anyone to be jealous of," he pointed out.

"Until now. What's going on with you and Maya?"

He was shocked by the question. "What? Nothing!"

"Oh, come on! Whoever wrote that knows you. They've been watching the two of you for a while now. Can you honestly tell me there's nothing at all between you and her?"

Len thought about it for a moment. "Honestly?"

"Yes. What?"

He sighed. "At one time, I did have feelings for her." Before she could protest, he went on: "I thought you weren't coming back. I thought . . . I thought, if I couldn't have you, maybe I could at least be happy with her."

"Did you tell her about it?"

"No. Well, I was going to, but things just happened too fast. And then you came back, and I didn't need a substitute anymore when I had the real thing again. So I never told her anything. I never told anyone."

"You must have told **someone**. Whoever wrote the story knew about it."

"I don't know how they found out. It would help if we knew who this person was."

"How do we find out?"

"I don't know. I think better on a full stomach," he said with a smile. "Let's go eat first, and then we'll sort this out."

Kit was scooping food out of steaming containers and piling it onto the plates. It was the closest he ever got to cooking.

"Everything okay?" he asked, as Kase and Len sat down.

Kase smiled. "Everything's fine. Let's just eat now, and we'll talk later."

"Sounds good to me," Maya said, reaching for a plate.

They were almost finished eating when Maya's phone rang. "Hello?"

"I think I've found our mystery writer," Lacey said. "How soon can you get down to the coffee shop next to the book store?"

"I don't know. We're just eating dinner--"

"Okay. Just don't take too long! I talked some guy into letting me borrow his laptop, and I think he's gonna want it back soon."

"We'll be there as soon as we can." Maya hung up and explained to the rest of the group, "Lacey's found something. She wants me to meet her at the coffee shop right away."

"Sounds good," Kit said. "You go on ahead. I'll join you as soon as I'm finished cleaning up."

"You go," Kase said. "I'll do the cleaning up."

He looked at her. "You sure?"

"I need the time to think about this. You guys go. I'll be fine."

"I could stay and help you," Len said.

"No, I can handle it."

"Can you?"

She looked him in the eye. "I'll be okay, Len. Just don't take all night. I might get lonely."

"I'll keep that in mind." He put an arm around her and held her close, and any doubts she might have had faded away.

* * *

Lacey was waiting for them right by the door. Across the table from her sat a guy with short hair, glasses, and a dazed look on his face.

"This is Eugene," she said, by way of introduction. "He's the one who let me use his laptop."

"Hi." Eugene waved at them weakly.

"So," Maya said, pulling up a chair, "what have you got?"

"Well, I went into the site forum and did a search on the author's user name. This is what I came up with." She showed them Aliens Ate My BMW's profile. Like his fiction profile, it was minimal.

"Not very helpful," Len said from behind her. The guys had elected to stand.

"No," Lacey admitted, "but I recognized his signature quote." She pointed to the bottom of the screen. "It's from an obscure Japanese sci-fi series. I did a search for that, and found this forum."

A click opened a tab for a page titled "Otaku United." "And a search for the same user name here led me to this."

She clicked open another tab, which led to a profile page. Unlike the previous one, this one had a photo.

A photo of someone they knew all too well.

"Trent?" Maya stared in shock. "Why would he do something like this?"

"I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation," Len said. "Maybe you should hear him out before you do something drastic."

"Oh, he'd **better** have a good explanation for this! Listen to this: 'Her dark, limpid eyes stared at the man who was not a man, pleading for release. She thought of her beloved Len and hoped he would come to her rescue soon, or else she was doomed to spend eternity in this evil alien's clutches.'"

"It's like a gold mine of bad writing," Kit said. "Maybe it's a joke."

"Well, I'm not laughing." She pushed back her chair and headed for the door, leaving the guys standing there stunned.

"We'd better go with her," Lacey said. "Eugene, would you be a dear and pay for my latte?"

"Sure," he said, with a big, dopey smile on his face. "Wow, she's letting me pay for her latte! I've never had a girl who let me pay for her before!"

"Think of the story you'll have to tell the Chess Club," Kit said, as he followed the others out the door.

* * *

Trent looked surprised to see Maya again so soon. "Did you forget something?" he asked her.

She shoved the printout at him without a word. He looked down at it, recognized it, and a guilty look crept across his face. "Oh. That. Look, I can explain--"

"You'd better! What possessed you to write something like this?"

"It's complicated . . ."

"We've got time," Len said, leaning on the counter.

Trent sighed. "Okay, what happened was, I lost an argument with this guy online. Got totally pwned!"

"Powned?" Len asked in confusion.

"Internet term," Trent said dismissively. "Anyway, my punishment was to write the worst fic ever and post it in the archive so everyone could see it."

"That's fine," Maya said. "But why did you have to make it about me and Len?"

"I don't know! I just—it just felt right, somehow! Anyway, I didn't think you'd ever see it. You never go to Aliens Among Us."

"I wouldn't have seen it if Lacey hadn't e-mailed me the link. And I don't want to see it again! Take it down."

"I can't take it down! It has to stay on the site for a month, or . . ." Trent looked uncomfortable. "You don't want to know what I have to do if I take it down."

"It can't be any worse than what Kase will do to you if you **don't **take it down," Len said grimly.

"Look, you don't know this guy! He can make my life a living nightmare on the boards if I don't--"

"Might I make a suggestion?" a voice behind them said.

Trent looked at him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Eugene."

"He bought me coffee and let me use his laptop," Lacey explained.

"Okay . . ."

"Find and replace," Eugene said.

Trent looked confused. "Find and replace **what**?"

"Names. I think your friends would prefer that the story not be about them. So change the names and put it back up."

"Hey, that could work! Change it to what, though?"

Eugene set his laptop on the counter and plugged in the power cord. "Leave that to me, my good man. I know the troll of whom you speak, and I've been looking for a way to get back at him for quite a while now. I think we're going to have fun with this."

* * *

**The Alien Hunter dealt the dark being a fatal blow.**

**"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Gannax cried, as he faded into nothingness.**

**Ken then rushed to his beloved and freed her from her bonds. "You're safe now, Tessa," he said.**

**"Oh, Ken," she sobbed. "I only want to be with you. Now . . . and forever."**

**THE END**

"See?" Kit said. "Change the names, and it could be anyone."

"I guess it is pretty funny," said Maya, "when it's not about us."

Even Kase had to agree. "This reminds me of the stuff Jeremy used to write. Only with more clichés and less common sense."

"I'm just glad everything worked out," said Len. "Trent even made a new friend."

"Geeks unite!" Kit exclaimed, raising a fist in salute.

"As long as they keep my name out of it," Maya said, "they can do whatever they want."

_(Author's note: this was a special request from vampiregirl2009, who wanted a Len/Maya. Above are all the reasons why such a story would be a bad idea. I hope you like what I came up with. Merry Christmas to all, and I'll have another chapter up before the New Year!)_


	27. Little Things and Big Things

_(Author's note: to vampiregirl2009, for whom I wrote the last chapter--sorry you didn't like it, but I have trouble writing to order. If you like Len/Maya, check out Nightmares and Realities by ChibiMoon921. Or you could always write one yourself. And if you sign your reviews, I'll send you a personal reply!)_

It's an unfortunate fact of life that the longer people live together, the more they start to annoy one another.

I think we've reached that point.

It started with the bed. I don't see what the big deal is about making a bed. You're just going to sleep in it again in a few hours. I just pull the covers up and try to make it look neat without going to a lot of trouble, and I leave it like that. My door's closed; it's not like anyone's going to see it.

But no! I'm on my way out the door and all of a sudden I hear, "Kit, get in here!"

"Whaat? I'm going out!"

"Come here, please!"

I rolled my eyes and went back into the bedroom.

"You call this making a bed?" Kase was standing next to it, giving me a look that could have bored through bank vaults.

"It's fine," I said.

"It's a mass of lumps! Fix it, right now!"

"Okay, okay . . ." Honestly, I didn't know what her problem was. She'd never had issues with me and my bedding before. I thought we had worked out all our problems with the cleaning and everything. It wasn't like I didn't do my part.

But just to please her, I pulled the whole bed apart and put it back together. I thought I'd done it right, but she took one look and said, "No. Do it again."

"What? I did it!"

"Do you see these lumps?" She ran her hand over the bed. "Smooth them out!"

"Maybe I **like** lumps in my bed!" Okay, I know I shouldn't have yelled at her, but I felt like I was being attacked for no reason, and I was just defending myself. I think probably I shouldn't have been so loud, though.

"What's going on?" Len said.

Kase pointed to the bed. "Look at that! Does that look like a properly made bed to you?"

"It's fine!" I insisted. I was not about to back down now. "And why is my bed any of her business, anyway?"

"I'm not letting you get away with lying around all day and not doing your chores! Do you know that the bathroom hasn't been cleaned in a week?"

"I've been busy."

"Were you **busy **yesterday when you were lying on the floor watching the Sponge Show and dropping crumbs everywhere?"

"It's Sponge**bob**, not the Sponge Show," I corrected her. "And I was taking a break!"

"A person could grow old and die while you're taking your breaks!"

"You're not my mother, okay?" I snapped. "So don't act like it!"

She wasn't fazed in the least. "All I ask is that you do your fair share of the work around here! Is that too much to ask?"

"I do plenty of the work!"

"Except making a bed properly! You're not going anywhere till you fix it!"

"I still don't get what your problem is with **my **bed! Make your own!"

"Okay, that's enough," Len said. "Everyone just needs to calm down now . . ."

"Stop taking his side!" Kase yelled at him.  
"I'm not taking anyone's side--"

"Oh, just get out! Both of you, get out of my sight! **I'll **do the bed, just--just get out of here!" And she threw one of my shoes at my head. Good thing I know how to duck.

The shoe landed on the floor behind me, skidding down the hall. She had the other in her hand and was getting ready to take another shot, and this time she wouldn't miss. The Angels should have her on their pitching staff next season, I thought.

I took the hint and left to take care of my original errand. I spent at least twice as long out of the house as I had planned to, just to keep myself out of the line of fire and in one piece. I must have spent at least an hour standing there staring at the windows and thinking about some of the things I had said. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there until she forgot I ever existed.

But in the end, I realized that I had to go home and face the music. I bought her some apology chocolates and a cute little stuffed animal I saw in a store window. I hoped she'd be in a better mood now that I had given her time to cool down.

When I came in, Len was sitting on the couch by himself. He looked up when he heard me come in, but said nothing.

"Where's Kase?" I asked him.

"In the bedroom. She's been in there a while, and I haven't heard a peep out of her."

"Is she okay, do you think?"

"I don't know. I've never seen her act like this." Len patted the cushion beside him, and I sat down. We started to talk in low voices about . . . well, nothing in particular, really. Neither of us wanted to mention what had happened that morning. Instead he told me this funny story about the time that his friend Mark had pulled the all-time best April Fools' prank, and convinced the whole school that President (I missed the man's name; wasn't sure I'd recognize it, anyway) was coming to pay them a personal visit. He had letters typed up on official-looking stationery and everything. On the morning of the supposed visit, the whole school assembled on the front lawn to greet the great man.

"We waited for hours," Len told me. "Nobody wanted to leave because they didn't want to miss him. And then it started to rain . . ."

Suddenly I heard the soft click of the bedroom door opening. A moment later, Kase stepped out into the hallway and just stood there, leaning on the wall, watching us. At least she didn't look angry anymore.

"Hey," I said. "Look, I'm sorry I was such a stupid jerk. I should have never reacted the way I did to--Kase? Are you all right?"

She took a few wobbly steps forward, then lurched sideways and would have hit the carpet if she hadn't grabbed the edge of the table at the last second. Len was up on his feet and at her side in mere seconds.

"Easy, easy . . . I've got you. It's all right, Kase." He gently eased her onto the couch and helped her lie down, despite her protests that she was okay and it was just a bit of dizziness. He went to get her a glass of water and in the meantime, I tried to keep her as comfortable as possible.

"You're not getting sick, are you?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "No, really, I just felt a little dizzy, just for a second. That's all."

"You sure? Maybe you should take some--"

"I'm **fine**, Kit, really. It's sweet of you to worry about me, but . . ."

"But what?"

"Nothing. It's not important. I'm sorry I yelled at you, too. I'm just so . . . tired."

"What can I do?" I asked her.

"I could use a glass of water."

"Got it," Len said, bringing it to her.

"But I'm fine," Kase insisted, although I could tell she was shaking, and she was so pale.

"When did you have breakfast?" Len asked her.

"I . . . I didn't."

"You mean you haven't eaten all day?"

"I've been busy! Doing . . . stuff." Obviously she didn't want to mention cleaning, because it would just set off the whole argument all over again.

"Well, there's your problem right there. Your blood sugar's low. That's why you're feeling so tired and dizzy. We should get you something to eat."

"I'm not--"

"Think you can manage some instant oatmeal?" I asked her.

"I think so."

"Good. I'll get started."

"Started? Started with what?" She tried to push herself up so she could see what I was doing.

"It's instant," I said, filling the kettle. "All I have to do is boil water."

"No, no, no!" Kase looked alarmed. "The last time you tried to cook, you nearly set the kitchen on fire!"

"It's just water! Okay, so I had the heat up too high when I was doing the hamburgers and the grease caught fire. That won't happen this time."

"Maybe you should let me do it," she said, starting to get up.

"I can handle it. Are you telling me I can't even be trusted to boil water?"

In the end, she gave in. "Okay, fine. Let's hope you make oatmeal better than you make beds."

"Yeah, about that . . ."

"Never mind."

"No, come on. Can we talk about it, at least?"

"Make the oatmeal first," she said. "Then we'll talk."

"Okay." I went over to the stove and started the water.

The trick is to let the water heat until it just reaches the boiling point, and then take it off the burner and let it sit a bit before adding it to the oatmeal. That way it doesn't burn. At least, that's the way my dad always made it. Whenever I was feeling down, or depressed, or like the whole world was out to get me, he'd make me a nice hot bowl of oatmeal, and maybe some hot chocolate, and we'd sit down and talk about it.

I added just a little bit of milk and a drop of honey before I brought it to Kase, who sat up and reached for it before she realized how hot it was.

"Ow!"

"Sorry! I should have put it on something." I took a pot holder from beside the stove and placed it on the coffee table, and then the bowl on top of it. "You want some tea or juice or anything?"

"I'll let you know." She blew on it before she put the spoon in her mouth. "Mmm, this is good! So much better than the glop we used to have at school."

"Yeah, it was like watered-down paste," Len said. He sat down beside her. "And no one could agree what it tasted like. It was so weak we couldn't tell what flavor it was supposed to be."

"Or if it was even supposed to be food," Kase said.

"Nice to know that school food being awful is universal," I said.

I waited until she had finished before trying to talk to her again. "Feeling better now?"

"I think so."

"Ready to tell me what that was all about?"

She sighed. "It . . . annoys me," she began, "that you don't seem to take things seriously sometimes."

"Hey!"

"My grandma always said, 'If you can't trust someone with the little things, how can you trust them with big ones?' I just want to know that you'll be there when it counts."

I couldn't believe it. "How can you think that making a bed has anything to do with . . . with . . . everything! Of course I'll be there when it counts!"

"I just don't want you flaking out on me at the crucial moment."

"Flaking out? I do not flake out! I have never flaked out in my life!"

"I just want you to be aware of what's at stake here. This is the fate of the whole world we're talking about."

"I know that," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "I know how important this is. I just don't want to waste my energy on dumb little things when there are more important things to worry about. Don't sweat the small stuff. That's what my dad always said."

"It seems like we have conflicting philosophies here," said Len. "Can we come to some sort of agreement about what is and what isn't important?"

Kase and I looked at each other uneasily. Neither of us wanted to be the first to give in, but clearly some kind of compromise had to be reached in order to have peace in the household.

"Kase," Len said, "you have to trust that Kit knows what he's doing. He's with us, a hundred and ten percent. I know you're thinking about Adam, and how we thought we could trust him too, but Kit isn't like that. He's the only one who resisted the temptation to join the dark side. He'll be there when we need him."

Kase smiled. "You've always seen the best in people. All right, I'll trust him."

Len then turned to me. "Do you think maybe you could be a little more helpful around here? You don't have to scrub floors or anything, just pick up after yourself a bit more."

"I guess I have been letting things slide," I admitted. "I'm sorry, Kase. I'll do better from now on."

"You do make good oatmeal," she said. "I'll give you that. I'm sorry I threw things at you this morning."

"You've got great aim. I'm just glad you're on our side!"

"I take it we're all friends again?" Len asked both of them.

"Of course we are," Kase said. "So long as we keep sight of the big things."

"And don't sweat the small stuff," I added.


	28. Focus

One morning Kit woke up earlier than usual. He was on his way to the kitchen when he heard something strange. It sounded like . . . deep breathing?

_What's going on? _He wondered, and went out to the living room to find out.

Len was standing in the small bit of open space, his arms extended, one foot in front of the other. Suddenly he bent at the waist, bringing his arms up and over his head. When his hands were touching the floor, he stepped his feet out wide and then lifted one leg higher than Kit thought was humanly possible.

And through it all, the only sound was the deep, rhythmic breathing he had noticed earlier.

What was this all about? Some kind of . . . exercise? He watched as Len moved through a series of complicated poses that looked like yoga or gymnastics. It wasn't like anything he had ever seen before. Kit stood and watched quietly, so awed that he almost forgot to breathe.

Len was aware he was being watched, but he waited until he had completed the cycle before turning around. "How long have you been watching?"

"Long enough," Kit said. "What is that you're doing?"

"It's called the Seven Forms. It's a kind of moving meditation."

"It looks a bit like yoga."

"It's a related discipline." He straightened up into Neutral Form. "It takes a lot of focus and deliberation."

"Could you teach me that?"

There was a moment when Len thought about it. Then he decided to take a chance. "Sure. I'll show you the basic poses first, and then we'll move through the sequence. Think you can keep up?"

"Yeah, how hard can it be?" Kit moved a few paces into the room so he could line up and follow along.

"Start in Neutral Form. Shoulders square, head up, arms at your sides, feet pointed forward and about hip-width apart. Try not to tense up or you could hurt yourself."

"Got it."

Kit did his best to try and copy Len's poses, and he did all right up until the Fifth Form, which involved standing on one leg while bringing the other up behind him. He lost his balance and fell over onto the rug.

Len helped him up. "Yeah, that happened to me all the time, when I was learning. You'll get the hang of it, if you practice often enough."

"How often do I have to do this?"

"Every day. Even five or ten minutes will make a difference. It teaches you how to control your body. It's not as active as other disciplines, but it's just as demanding. You need to focus on what you're doing."

"Easier said than done."

"You can do it. I know you can. Want to try the Seated Forms for a while?"

"Okay."

The seated ones were easier--less risk of falling, for one thing. It was mostly bending over and stretching to the side and stuff. He had to force himself to slow down before he pulled a muscle or something.

He did the best he could, even if he couldn't bend all the way back to touch his head to his heels like Len did. Eventually, the two of them were moving in almost perfect sync. It was easy, once he knew what to do.

After they finished the final Form, they lay there side by side, cooling down.

"Not bad for your first time out," Len said. "A little more practice, and you'll be able to do all these moves without even thinking about it."

"You think so?" Kit was a bit surprised that Len thought he'd done so well. "I fell at least twice, and I couldn't lift my leg all the way up."

"It'll come. Just remember to slow down and concentrate on your movements. Once you've done it for a while, it'll become second nature to you."

"How long have you been doing this, again?"

"Since the beginning. It was one of the first things they taught us. Actually, I learned it from--" He broke off suddenly, and Kit didn't know why.

"From who?"

"Someone I used to know. He was my first teacher, actually. I'll tell you about him some time." Len rolled over on his side and then pushed himself up into a sitting position.

At that moment, Kase came out of her bedroom and found them sitting on the floor. "You guys are up early. What's going on?"

"I was just teaching Kit the Seven Forms," Len told her.

Kase looked at Kit approvingly. "And how'd he do?"

"Not bad, for a beginner."

"I fell a couple times," Kit admitted.

"Fifth Form?"

Kit nodded.

"We all fell," she told him. "Just keep practicing, you'll get it. Now who wants breakfast? I'm making pancakes."

"That sounds great." Kit got slowly to his feet and took a seat at the counter.

"You're really into this cooking thing, aren't you?" Len asked Kase.

"It's not as hard as I thought it would be. Plus, I have some frozen ones as a backup in case I screw it up."

"Always have a backup plan." Len put his arm around her.

Kit thought about how much his life had changed in just over a month. He had been alone, adrift, with no idea where he was going or even who he was. Now, he had a family (of sorts), a job (if you could call it that), and a purpose. He knew why he was here, and what he was meant to do.

Now if he could just keep from falling over in Fifth Form . . .


	29. Her Turn

_(Author's note: I forgot to thank my anonymous reviewers in my last chapter. Thanks, vampiregirl2009! Remember, sign in and I'll send you a personal reply!)_

Things had settled down now in the apartment, and we were used to each other's habits. In the mornings, Kase was the first one up, and if she was in a good mood, she'd make breakfast for "her boys". She'd gotten quite good at scrambling eggs, and was ready to make a stab at French toast--it didn't look that hard, she said. And it sure beat another morning of cold cereal.

But this morning, I hadn't seen her in the kitchen, even though it was getting close to nine o'clock. It looked like Kit and I might have to make our own breakfasts, if she didn't get up soon.

I was concerned that she might be avoiding us for some reason, though I couldn't think of anything I might have done. Or Kit, for that matter. He was going out of his way to be nice to her lately, and on top of that, we had done all the cleaning without having to be reminded once. So I wasn't sure what the problem was, but there was only one way to find out.

The bedroom door was closed, so I knocked. "Kase? It's me. You awake?"

"Go away," she grumbled, and there was something wrong with her voice.

"You okay?" I wanted to come in and get a better look at her, but according to house rules, I couldn't unless I had her permission. It didn't sound like I was getting it any time soon.

"I wanna sleep," she moaned, and this time I could hear it clearly.

"Are you . . . are you sick, K?" She hadn't been sick in years. But then, before I came here, I hadn't been sick in about as long, and then all of a sudden it seemed like I was sick all the time. The flu . . . that nasty stomach thing Kit and I had both had . . . and let's not forget about the cold I got in the rain. I didn't want all that to start happening to Kase now. Maybe what we all needed was an immune booster.

"I don't know," she said, although it came out sounding like _I duh doh._ Yep, she sure sounded sick, all right.

"Let me come in and I'll take a look at you, okay?"

"Okay." I heard her sniff and then cough. I hoped that whatever it was she had wasn't too serious, because I didn't want to catch this thing, although I probably would anyway since we spent all our time together.

It was a risk I was willing to take, though. I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open just enough to see her lying in the middle of that big bed, coughing her head off. I went to her and brushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair out of her face. She probably had a fever as well as the cough, and I mentally upgraded it from cold to flu.

"You're gonna be okay," I said soothingly, stroking her cheek. "I'll get you some medicine and then you can sleep for a while."

"Breakfast," she murmured.

"We can get our own breakfast."

"Dishes."

"I'll make sure they're washed up. Don't you worry about a thing. I've got everything under control."

She made some kind of hacking, choked sound that at first I thought was a cough but which I realized was supposed to be laughter. "Yeah, right," she rasped. "When I get up, this place'll be a disaster area."

"I'll stay on top of it. You need anything?"

"Just you, baby. Just you."

I kissed her on the top of her head. "I'll be back, beautiful. Don't go anywhere."

Whatever she said to that was lost as I went out and quietly closed the door behind me.

"She okay?" Kit asked.

"I think she's got the flu. We still got that medicine?"

He shook his head. "Used it up the last time you were sick. I meant to get more, but . . . stuff happened."

"Guess I need to go to the store, then--"

"I'll go. Just give me the list and I'll get it."

I looked at him. "You sure? I can do it."

"You stay here with her. I'll go. Make a list of everything we need, and I'll get it all at once."

"You don't have to do this--"

"Len." He put a hand on my arm. "She needs you. Besides, I'll be right back."

"You might want to get dressed first," I said.

He looked down at himself, as if he had forgotten he was still in his PJs. "Oh. Right. You get to work on that list, and I'll be right out." He went into his room, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Once he was gone, I got out the pad and a pencil and started thinking of the stuff we would need. Medicine, of course . . . soup . . . juice . . . and some more of that herbal tea that always made me feel better. And then there was the usual stuff like milk and bread and toilet paper . . .

By the time Kit was ready to go, I had the list all ready for him.

"You need some money?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I've got it covered."

"Don't be long," I said. "She really needs that medicine."

"I know." He grabbed his jacket and his helmet and went out the door.

I thought Kase would be sleeping when I went in to check on her, but she was lying awake, coughing and looking terrible. She felt warm when I laid my hand on her face, and I made a mental note to see if I could find some ice and a clean towel or two. Not to mention a few boxes of tissues, considering the way she was sniffling.

"Hey," I said. "Let me go get you some Kleenex."

"Doh't do be ady fabors," she snuffled.

Great. I had forgotten how crabby she could be when she was sick. "That medicine is on its way, okay? Just hang in there a little longer."

She threw a pillow at me.

"What? What did I do?"

"Go away!" Sniff, cough, hack, sneeze. Poor baby, I just wanted to lay there and cuddle her, but clearly she was not in a cuddling mood. In fact, she looked like she wanted to hit me, and I still didn't know what for. I was torn between letting her alone and intervening to help her get better.

Then I heard the door open and close, and I felt a huge sense of relief. "I'll have that medicine for you in just a few minutes," I said.

"Whadeber."She meant "whatever," but she was so stuffed up that she couldn't speak clearly. Not to worry, I speak fluent Head Cold.

"You want me to bring you some lozenges or ginger ale or something?"

"Just leabe be alode!" Ooh, boy, was she in a bad way. She needed that medicine **now **or she'd be impossible to live with.

"I'll be back," I said, and went out to find Kit unpacking the grocery bags.

"I got everything except that vitamin supplement," he said. "Three clerks and a manager helped me look, and we couldn't find it."

"We'll get it later," I said. I saw the box of medicine and grabbed it up. "She needs this right now."

"Can I do anything?"

"You can start heating the water for the tea," I told him.

"Should I put the soup on, too?"

"Not yet. We can always heat that later. First things first."

When I came in, she moaned, "What **dow**?"

"I'm just here to give you your medicine. Calm down, hon," I said, cracking open the seal on the bottle. It was tougher than it looked. The little tear-away notch just wouldn't tear. I finally had to use my teeth to get it open, and then I poured the liquid into the little cup and handed it to her. She stared at it for a moment, as if she wasn't quite sure what to do with it, but then she gulped it all down at once.

"Ugh," she said, her face crinkling up in disgust.

"It works, trust me. You'll feel better in no time."

Just then Kit came in carrying a cup of tea. "Here you go."

She looked at him. "Whad's this?"

"Herbal tea with honey. It'll help your throat feel better."

She gingerly picked up the cup and took a sip. "This is good. You bade dis?"  
"Yeah. We take care of each other here. You just lay back and let us do everything, okay?"

"Why are you doig dis?" she asked.

"So you can get better and then take care of us when we get sick."

She smiled. "You're so cute, Adam."

As soon as she realized what she had said, she looked up at him in horror. "I'b sorry," she snuffled. "I didd't bead to--"

"It's okay," he said. "You're sick. I won't hold it against you."

"Ohgay," she said, and started shivering,

I climbed up onto the bed beside her.

"Whad are you doig?"

"Keeping you warm."

"Whad if you ged sick?"

"I'll be fine."

"Fabous lasd words," she said, but she let me stay.

Then I felt the bed shift and looked over to see Kit lying on her other side. "We're just trying to help you," he said. "You know, the whole taking care of each other thing."

She just sighed, which brought on another coughing fit. I rubbed her back until she could breathe again.

"Thagks."

"We'll just lie here with you till you fall asleep," I told her.

"Ohgay." She was too worn down by now to argue about anything, so she just turned over on her side and closed her eyes. I lay there and stroked her hair until her rhythmic breathing told me that she was sleeping.

"Okay, Kit," I whispered, "we've got stuff to do. Let's get--"

And then I noticed that his eyes were closed, and heard his own slow, deep breathing.

"Or we could just stay here for now."

I settled back down on the bed, and before I knew it, I was asleep too.

When I woke with a start, I didn't know what time it was. The bedside clock told me we had been sleeping for over four hours.

Moving carefully so I wouldn't wake Kase, I slid out of bed and went around to the other side. Then I gently nudged Kit awake. "Come on, let's get that soup started."

He coughed and then wiped his eyes. "I thig I'b sig too."

_Great, _I thought. "Looks like soup for two, then. I'll be right back."

It didn't take long for the soup to finish heating up. While I waited, I took the tray tables out from behind the couch and carried them into the bedroom.

"Almost ready, guys," I said, and then I saw how they were lying there together, curled around each other like clinging vines. His head was on her shoulder, and her arm wrapped around his waist. They looked so cute, it was hard to believe these were the same two people who were sniping at each other just a few weeks ago.

This was what Kit had meant about taking care of each other. Even as they were both so sick themselves, they each looked out for the other. I couldn't help going, "Awwwww . . ." in spite of myself.

By now it was nearly four-thirty. And I felt like I had lost a whole day, between sleeping and getting everything else done. I went to make myself some tea . . .

And then I started coughing, and it felt like I couldn't stop. I sat down and lowered my head, and finally I could breathe again. But now my throat felt like someone had attacked it with a cheese grater, and my head was pounding like the bass line of a disco song.

_Oh, no, _I thought. _Who's going to take care of __**me**__?_


	30. I Hate Being Sick!

_(Author's note: I was inspired by a reviewer to rewrite the last chapter from Kase's point of view. Hope you like it. To vampiregirl2009: thanks for reviewing, and maybe I'll do some Len/Maya a few chapters down the line. Stay tuned!_)

When I woke up that morning, my head felt like it was full of jelly, and my throat was on fire.

_No. Oh, no, please . . ._

Maybe it would go away. I had to get up; the boys would be wanting their breakfast. I looked at the clock: it was eight forty-five. I had never in my life slept past five a. m., unless I was . . .

I tried to take a deep breath, but the sudden rush of air irritated the back of my throat, and I started coughing.

_Great._

Then I heard a knock on the door. "Kase? It's me," Len called through the crack. "You awake?"

_No. _"Go away."

"You okay?"

_Do I __**sound **__okay, genius? _I just wanted to be alone for a while, but he wasn't getting that. "I wanna sleep . . ."

"Are you . . . are you sick, K?" He sounded worried. I knew if I admitted it, he would stay with me all day, being the good boyfriend and taking care of me whether I wanted him to or not.

On the other hand, I hated lying to him.

"I don't know," I said. After all, I didn't, not really. Technically.

"Let me in and I'll take a look at you, okay?

_No! _Ididn't want him to see me like this, all sweaty and dripping and red-faced and disgusting. But there was no getting rid of him now. "Okay."

He came in and was at my side in a moment, stroking my hair. Then he put his hand on my face, probably trying to see if I had a fever.

"You're gonna be okay," he said. "I'll get you some medicine and then you can sleep for a while."

Sleep sounded good. But I felt bad for not making him breakfast. "Breakfast," I said, by way of apology.

"We can get our own breakfast."

"Dishes." At least let me clean up, when I was up and around again.

"I'll make sure they're washed up." _Yeah, right. You haven't washed a dish since I've been here. _"Don't worry about a thing. I've got everything under control."

I had a mental image of Len going into battle, armor and all, against a mountain of dirty dishes, and I started to laugh.

Or tried, anyway. It turned into a cough that made my chest ache. This was not good. If I couldn't even laugh about it, it was going to be a long day. "Yeah, right. When I get up, this place'll be a disaster area."

"I'll stay on top of it. You need anything?"

_SLEEP, you idiot! _"Just you, baby. Just you." Preferably in the other room, and **quiet**.

He leaned over and kissed the top of my head. "I'll be back, beautiful," he said, and I almost laughed again. In the state I was in, he could call me beautiful? "Don't go anywhere."

"Yeah, I'll get up and run a marathon," I said to his back. He shut the door behind him, and I could hear him out in the living room, talking to Kit. Hopefully telling him to stay far, far away from the plague zone. We didn't need him sick, too. If Kit was anything like Adam used to be, then it was a very, very bad thing for him to be sick. Adam didn't get sick very often, but when he did, it was usually something serious and possibly life-threatening. I didn't want to be responsible for something like that now. Bad enough **I **was sick . . .

My nose was leaking like a fire hose. There was a box of tissues over on the dresser, but I couldn't manage to get up to get it. When I tried to lift myself up, it just started another coughing fit. Fraz, that **hurt**.

All of a sudden I felt a hand on my face. I looked up and there was Len, looking even more worried.

"Hey," he said. "Let me go get you some Kleenex."

I wanted to say yes, considering how badly I needed them, and had been trying to get them, but I didn't want him hanging around and waiting on me all day. "Doh't do be ady fabors," I said through the stuffiness. Now I couldn't even speak properly.

"That medicine is on its way, okay? Just hang in there a little longer."

_Hang in there? Let's see __**you **__try hanging in there when you're hot and cold and achy and stuffy and can't breathe! _I picked up one of the spare pillows and threw it at him. _Take that, insensitive jerk!_

"What?" he said, looking utterly baffled. "What did I do?"

Was he kidding me? "Go away!" I snarled, not quite as clearly as I'd hoped. Then I had another coughing fit, at the worst possible time.

Len was just standing there watching me suffer, and I wanted to smack him around until he was hurting as much as I was at that moment. I'd run myself ragged taking care of him when **he **was sick! The least he could do was **try **to have some sympathy for me!

A door slammed somewhere in the distance. Len turned towards the door, and then back to me. "I'll have that medicine for you in just a few minutes."

_Well, what are you waiting for? _"Whateber."

"You want me to bring you some lozenges or ginger ale or something?"

I would have rolled my eyes if it hadn't hurt my head so much. "Just leabe be alode!" And now my voice was going, too.

"I'll be back." And he left, not a moment too soon.

I lay back on the remaining pillows and waited for this nightmare to end. I **hate **being sick. I can't stand feeling less than a hundred percent at all times, and it doesn't matter that it's not my fault. And our special healing abilities don't work on viruses, especially otherworldly viruses. I'd just have to live with it.

Len came back in carrying a small green bottle.

"What **dow**?" I demanded.

"I'm just here to give you your medicine. Calm down, hon." He went to work on the plastic seal around the top of the bottle, but it wouldn't budge. I watched him struggle with the strip and not be able to get it open. Finally he cracked the tear strip by using his teeth, and he poured the green liquid into the cup and held it out.

It was nasty-looking stuff, and it smelled even worse. I didn't want to have to taste it, but the alternative was to go on feeling as bad as I was, and besides, I probably couldn't taste anything anyway.

Oh, well. Bottoms up.

I was wrong. I could still taste, and the stuff was as bad as it looked. "Ugh."

"It works, trust me."

How would he know?

"You'll feel better in no time."

Well, I couldn't feel any **worse**, could I? On second thought, I shouldn't be asking that.

Kit came in, holding something, which he put on the night stand. "Here you go."

"Whad's this?" I asked. I was having trouble focusing.

"Herbal tea with honey. It'll help your throat feel better."

Aw, how sweet. I tried it; it wasn't bad at all. Who said Kit can't cook? "This is good. You bade dis?"

"Yeah. We take care of each other here. You just lay back and let us do everything, okay?"

Was this some kind of conspiracy? "Why are you doig dis?" Kit never struck me as the nurturing type. That was Adam. He had this neurotic need to love, and to be loved. Like a little puppy.

"So you can get better," he said, "and then take care of us when we get sick."

Something about the way he said it was just so sweet. "You're so cute, Adam," I said, before I realized it.

_Did I just call him-- oh, no!_

"I'b sorry. I didd't bead to--"

"It's okay," he said. He took the cup from me and set it back down on the night stand. "You're sick. I won't hold it against you."

"Ohgay."

All of a sudden I felt so cold. I had three or four blankets on top of me, but I just couldn't get warm. Then I felt a warm body beside me. "Whad are you doig?"

"Keeping you warm," Len said.

"Whad if you ged sick?"

"I'll be fine."

"Fabous lasd words," I said. I knew that in a few days, a week tops, I would be the one taking care of him. But I didn't care.

Then I felt someone on my other side.

"We're just trying to help you," Kit said. He shifted on the bed so that he was right up close to me. "You know, the whole taking care of each other thing."

And now he was going to get sick too. I sighed, and then coughed. Len rubbed my back until it settled down.

"Thagks."

"We'll just lie here with you till you fall asleep."

What had I done to deserve these guys? "Ohgay," I said, and turned over and closed my eyes. Everything was so quiet and so still. I could feel Len stroking my hair, and hear Kit breathing beside me, and I felt safe and warm and loved.

I must have slept for quite a while. When I woke up, Len was gone, but Kit was still lying there.

"Where's Len?" I asked. The medicine must have kicked in; I could breathe again.

Kit sniffled a bit. "He's bakig soup," he said.

Oh, no. "Did I get you sick?" I asked. He looked pretty bad.

"Id's ohgay," he said. "I was probably already cobig dowd wid id." He started to push himself up. "I should go to by roob."

"No," I said. "Stay. Save your energy." I put my arm around his waist and pulled him close to me. He rested his head on my shoulder, and we fell asleep again.

It was the sound of coughing that woke me up. Not my own, and when I looked over at Kit, I saw that he was still asleep. Then who was--

_Oh, no!_

I got up and found Len sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.

"Oh, no," I said. "Not you, too."

He looked up at me. "Fraid so."

"Come on in with us. Room for one more."

"I cad't," he said, with just a hint of stuffiness. "Stuff to do."

"Bed," I said. "Now."

He grumbled a bit, but eventually went. I brought him the medicine, and woke Kit so he could take some too. Then we all lay down together.

"This has got to stop," Len said, sniffling.

"Oh, I duddo," said Kit. "Isd't sharig a good thig?"

I had to laugh at that. Which just started me coughing all over again. Maybe I wasn't as much improved as I thought. "I'll ged right od id," I said. "Toborrow."


	31. Two Days

It was always the worst part: that moment when he had to say goodbye to her. Knowing he now had to face three hundred and sixty-three days without her, until it was his turn to go back into suspended animation, and join her in their twelve-year slumber.

Several times, over the years, he had said, "I wish we didn't have to do this. I wish we could just be together, all the time."

"I know," she would always reply. "I do, too. But it would be too much of a strain on the life support systems. We need to just be happy with what we've got."

"I know this is the way it has to be. I just wish it didn't. I want something more."

And she would always lean her head on his shoulder, and try to make the moment of contact last as long as possible, before the pod opened, and she had to enter.

"Find out who's leaving those notes all over the console," she said, as she broke free of his embrace. "And check the electrical system. There's a light flickering down the hall; you might need to replace the fuse."

"I'll do it," he promised.

"And remember to check the --"

"Kase, I know," he said. There was always a laundry list of things to do and check and stay on top of, and she would go on all day if he let her. "Time to go."

She stepped backward into the open pod, and in the instant before the door slid down, she would always whisper, "I love you."

And he would say, "I love you, too."

And then the pod would close, and he'd be alone, for three hundred and sixty-three days.

* * *

She was always there when he woke up. The first few hours were spent just being together. They would have toast and tea from the dispensers, his first meal in twelve years. It was always best to start with something light.

The rest of the first day would be spent catching up on everything he'd missed. She'd fill him in on what she'd done over the past year, and then let him look at the log. The log was kept up on a weekly basis by the Rider on duty, and it always made him smile to look back and see Mark's little sketches, Brandon's song lyrics, and Jaden's spelling mistakes. Then he would come to the pages with Kase's flowery script, and it made his heart ache. It could be worse; the only other Rider he ever saw on a regular basis was Adam, who came right after him. The rest he never saw at all. Two days wasn't much, but it was better than nothing at all.

The first night, he couldn't sleep for the excitement. He would lie awake on the couch (there was only one bed), thinking, planning, hoping. He always wished that some emergency would come up during the course of the year that would require backup, and that she would be the one. When there was such an emergency, the computer determined who would be the most help, and automatically woke the appropriate Rider. So even if something did come up, it wasn't certain that she would be the one to come out and join him.

It was the hope that kept him going, though, in those long, lonely days when he just wanted to hear the sound of another human voice, when he ached for her touch and longed for her presence. The hope that someday, somehow, they could be together all the time. But for now, all he could do was hope.

The next morning, they began the real work. For her, that meant wrapping up any loose ends from her tour of duty; for him, it was looking over the video log and getting a feel for the job all over again. Their meals were quick, a brief interruption in the middle of their day. Sometimes, if they were lucky, they could get in a quick sparring session in the late afternoon. Usually there was too much to do.

All too soon, the second night would come. He wouldn't want to sleep, because he knew that when the morning came, they would have to say goodbye for another twelve years.

_This isn't much of a relationship, _he thought. _The time we've accumulated together isn't long enough for milk to go bad. There has to be a better way._

He thought about the conversations he always had with Adam. The younger man wanted to break away, to go back to what passed for normal life. The war was over, there really wasn't much of a need for the Kamen Riders anymore. Why couldn't they just live a normal life?

And Len would always point out that since Master Eubulon had disappeared, there was no way to unlink from their decks. It was a job for life, he said. Besides, what did any of them know about a normal life, anyway?

And then morning would come, their last morning together. And they would put off that final moment for as long as they could, not thinking about it, not talking about it, doing the last minute things that needed to be done, and then finally, that moment would come.

And though neither of them wanted to, they would say goodbye again.

And then he was alone. For three hundred and sixty one days. Until Adam came out of his pod, and Len prepared to go back in. Every morning the computer would remind him how many days he had left. Three hundred days became two hundred, and then one hundred, and then thirty, and then fifteen, twelve, ten, six, four.

The day before Adam emerged was spent wrapping up loose ends, going over the logs again, and metaphorically packing his bags. He went to write out a list of instructions, and found that there wasn't anything he could think of that hadn't already been covered in the log. It had been a very uneventful year.

And then he began counting the minutes -- all two thousand, eight hundred, and eighty of them -- until he would be with Kase again, side by side for eleven years. Though they would never speak or see each other during that time, just knowing she was there was comforting. He wondered if she felt the same way.

Adam asked a million questions about everything he had missed. Len loved the kid like a brother, but after a while, all the questions became annoying, and he just shoved the hard copy of the binder into Adam's hands and went off to be by himself.

He re-emerged around dinner time, apologizing for his absence. "Really, there's nothing to tell," he said. "It was boring, really."

"What did you do to keep busy?"

"Updated the music collection."

"So all that 'longhair music' was yours?"

"Well, not all of it . . ."

They laughed, just like old times. Len missed those carefree days when they had nothing to worry about but passing their training. It seemed a long, long time ago now.

"Have you thought about what I said?' Adam asked.

"About dissolving the Riders? We can't do that."

"But if we're not really needed--"

"We physically can't do it. Even if you turned in your deck and walked away, you'd never really be free. The call would follow you for the rest of your life."

"At least I'd **have **a life."

"If we ever find Master Eubulon again, maybe we can talk with him about it."

"Where do you think he went?"

"I don't know. I don't think he's dead, though--I'd know if he was dead. He's just . . . somewhere we can't find him."

"Are we looking?"

"Of course. Every hour, of every day. It's a big universe. It may take a hundred years, or a thousand. We may never find him."

"What if we can't?"

"I don't know. We'll keep working on it. It's all in my notes."

"Yeah, okay." Adam didn't look very happy, but there was nothing Len could do about it. He went to bed with a lot on his mind.

And the second day came, and he showed Adam the additions he'd made to the library, and the music collection.

"I've never heard of half these people," the younger man said.

"I recommend this one," Len said, showing him a recent acquisition. "It's really something."

"Okay, I'll give it a listen."

Much later, Len would go over and over this final day in his mind, looking for any hint of what was to come. But he never found anything the least bit incriminating. Whatever had happened, it had happened while he was in his frozen sleep, and he could have done nothing to prevent it.

They spent the evening listening to their favorite music and talking over old times. It wasn't as nice as being with Kase, but after a year of solitude, it felt good to have someone else to talk to.

His last night, he couldn't sleep either. He was both excited to be back with Kase, and sad about having to leave what he called the "real world". Eventually he did fall asleep, only to be woken at dawn for the final countdown.

"Have someone come in and look at Dispenser Number Four," he said, as they began the long walk to the pod chamber. "It hasn't been heating anything well enough lately. I think there might be a loose wire somewhere."

"Check," Adam said.

"And don't leave sticky notes all over everything. Put it in the log."

"I'm not the one with the sticky notes."

"You're not?"

"No. Must be one of the others. I'll put something in the log about it."

"You do that."

He felt like he was coming to the end of a long, long road. He was glad to be going, but he would miss being awake and aware.

"Don't worry," Adam said. "I'll take care of everything."

"I know," Len said.

They had a quick man hug.

"Take care of yourself, little brother," he said as he stepped into the pod.

"I will. Have a good sleep."

Len took a deep breath, closed his eyes . . .

* * *

. . . and the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake.

"Kase?" he mumbled sleepily. "Has it been twelve years?"

"Shhh," she whispered. "Don't talk, just come with me."

He could hear strange noises, but his sleep-fogged brain couldn't identify them. "What's going on?" he asked, as he followed her out of the room.

"No time to explain!" she hissed. She looked around carefully, as if worried about being followed, and then crept into the travel chamber.

Len was still looking around in confusion as she plucked his travel bag out of the cubby and thrust it into his arms. "Trust me," she said. "Just do what I tell you."

"Are we being attacked?"

She just shook her head sadly. "It's worse than that. We've been betrayed."

"By who?"

She didn't even correct his grammar; that told him it was serious. "There's still time for us to get away."

"To where?"

"To the world behind the mirrors. If we move fast, he won't follow us . . ."

"Too late," said an ominous voice from the doorway.

Len turned to see the massive armored form of General Xaviax bearing down on him.

_I thought we beat him!_

But it was the smaller form standing behind him, an expression of guilt and sorrow on his face, that shocked Len the most.

_Adam? What have you done?_

"You're not getting away that easily!" Xaviax thundered, moving toward them. "I have your friends' Advent decks, and soon I'll have yours!"

The portal rippled and waved. "Go on!" Kase urged Len. "I'll hold him off!"

"By yourself? You'll get vented!"

"I'll be fine! Go!" She pushed him through the portal so fast he didn't even have a chance to say goodbye.

* * *

The next thing he knew, he was standing in an alley, staring out at a busy street.

_Where am I?_

He turned back to look for Kase, but the portal had already closed. All he saw was his own reflection.

_Kase . . . no . . ._

Suddenly two days didn't seem like a short time at all. Compared to spending an eternity without her.


	32. Brand New Girl

Maybe it's because I grew up surrounded by guys. Maybe it's because what I do for a living doesn't exactly lend itself well to hot shoes and teased hair. Whatever the reason, I've never felt the slightest need to look . . . well, like a girl.

So when Maya and Lacey announced that they were taking me to get a makeover, my first reaction was "Help!"

"You need to get in touch with your feminine side," Lacey said, assessing my current wardrobe. "Something a bit . . . softer than the dominatrix look."

"I like my look!"

"Besides, black is too harsh for your coloring. You'd look better in . . . maybe a raspberry or fuchsia."

"Maybe aqua, to bring out her eyes?" Maya suggested.

"Definitely. Pale green would work too. Not too yellow, though."

"Uh, guys?" I turned around and looked at the boys, who were standing there trying not to laugh. "Little help, here?"

"Have fun," Len said.

I could see I wasn't getting any help from them.

"Okay," I said, as they ushered me out the door, "but no pink. I don't want to look like a Barbie doll."

"We'll try to find a happy medium somewhere between Barbie and Barbarella," Lacey said.

Maya looked at her.

"What? My parents have the movie. I watched it cause I heard Duran Duran was in it, but it turned out it wasn't the band, it was this lame villain . . ."

If I had to listen to this all afternoon, I was going to stab myself with an eyelash curler or something.

* * *

I knew nothing about clothes shopping, having never bought my own clothes in my life. I didn't even know what size I was. The girls went around finding stuff for me to try on, and when they had a big enough pile, they herded me into a dressing room to see how everything looked.

I hated the first outfit on sight. "I said no pink!"

"It's not pink! Okay, it's pink, but it's rose-pink. It'll look good on you. Try it."

"We'll save this one for last," I said, hoping that I'd fall in love with one of the others and never have to try it.

There were a lot of skirts. I never wear skirts. I thought it was a waste of time, but I tried them anyway.

I went through the rest of the clothes quickly, not liking any of them. And then I saw it, hanging on a rack just outside the dressing room. It was a teal blue mini-dress with spaghetti straps and a ruffle on the bottom, and I just loved it.

There was one problem: it was about two sizes too small for me.

"Maybe they have it in another size," Maya suggested. "I'll go flag down the saleswoman."

"You don't think the color's a little strong?" I asked, holding the dress just under my shoulders.

"It's gorgeous!" said Lacey. "I think we've found The Look."

Maya took the dress with her to find the right size. When she came back with it a few minutes later, I practically ripped it out of her hands in my eagerness to see how it would look on me.

It was a perfect fit. The only problem was . . .

"We're going to need a strapless bra," Lacey proclaimed.

"And stockings," said Maya. "Maybe some of those thigh-high sparkly ones on the mannequin out front?"

"What colors do they come in?"

"I want gold," I said. "And gold shoes to match. Can we find them?"

"We'll have to go to Shoe Heaven for the shoes, but I'll check on the stockings."

"And I'll look in the lingerie section." They went off in opposite directions, leaving me to admire myself in the three-way mirror.

I'd never really looked at my body before. Oh, sure, I looked at it all the time, when I was showering or dressing. But never just to **look** at it. I could see the muscular definition in my shoulders and arms, and the dress stopped around mid-thigh, showing off my legs. I looked good.

All my life I had focused more on what my body could do--training, stretching, fighting--than what it looked like. Now I understood why there were such things as fashion magazines. Everybody wanted to look good. It wasn't such a bad thing, after all.

By the time we went to the Food Court for lunch, I had two outfits, two sets of underwear, the sparkly gold stockings, a pair of strappy high heels from Shoe Heaven, a thin gold bracelet and matching earrings, and a set of scented hangers to hold everything. It was more stuff than I had ever owned, and none of it was the least bit practical. That was the best part.

"I wonder how the guys are getting on?" I asked.

Maya shrugged. "They're probably just hanging out."

"We could call and find out."

"Why bother them? They'll think something's wrong."

"You know what they're doing, don't you?" I said.

"You mean besides talking about us?" Lacey interjected.

"Yes," I said, "besides that. That's pretty much a given."

"What do **you** think they're doing?" Maya asked me.

"I know what they're doing. Making a mess. Making more of a mess, I should say; the place was already a mess when we left. Nobody but me apparently believes in washing breakfast dishes. They just leave it all."

This was another thing I'd never had to deal with before. We'd always had meal service and room service--people who were paid to clean up after us. So maybe it wasn't entirely laziness that kept the dishes from being washed. So I wouldn't be **too** hard on him.

Maybe.

"Oh my God!" Lacey jumped up. "It's ten minutes of three! We have to get all the way down to the other end of the mall in ten minutes!"

"Can we make it?" I asked. It was a big place.

"Depends on how fast you can run!"

We made the spa appointment with about thirty seconds to spare.

* * *

I didn't want to know how much my fabulous transformation had cost, so I waited outside while the girls settled the bill with the staff. I stood and looked at myself in the reflective window of a nearby shop. How had I ever thought that this afternoon was going to be a waste? I tilted my head back and gave the mirror a small smile--and that was when I saw it: just a flash in the mirror, but I knew an enemy when I saw one.

A crowded mall was not the place to transform, though. I snuck into the restroom, made sure no one else was hiding in the stalls, and reached for my deck.

It wasn't in my pocket.

What the fraz?

Too late, I remembered that it had been shoved into one of the bags when we left the clothing store. I had to get it back.

I ran back to the spa, where the girls were just leaving. "I need my jacket," I said, ignoring their confused stares. "No time to explain!"

"Is it . . . um, you know?" Maya asked, not wanting to be overheard.

I nodded. "This shouldn't take long. I'll be back."

She dug the jacket out of the shopping bag and handed it to me. "Should I call the guys?"

"No, I can handle it. Thanks." I meant for more than just the jacket, but I wasn't sure if they got that. Lacey still looked confused as I dashed off, but when she saw me head into the Ladies' room, a look of understanding passed over her features. "Oh! I get it. It's **that** kind of an emergency."

I don't know what Maya said to her, as the door closed just then. I reached into the right pocket of my jacket, and the deck was there. Praise Ventara.

I faced the mirror and raised my arm to shoulder height. "Kamen Rider!"

On the other side of the mirror, the mall was a huge, open warehouse. Part of the roof had caved in, leaving a pile of debris in the middle of the floor, about where the pay phones had been in the mall.

"Where are you, you ugly thing?" I hadn't gotten a good look at it, but they were all ugly.

A flash of movement out of the corner of my eye made me turn my head. There he was, a Jackal beast. This wasn't going to be easy. But I hadn't had a good fight in a couple of days, and I was ready.

"Come on," I taunted him. "You afraid to beat up a girl?"

He put his head down and charged.

"That's more like it!" I sidestepped and got in a few hard blows before he recovered and kicked me in the midsection so hard it sent me reeling. Gasping for breath, I dodged another kick and tried to plot my next move. But my mind was not on my work.

Kick, punch. _I hope I don't break a nail! Jaleesa spent so much time getting them perfect, it'd be a shame to ruin it. _

Duck, block. _Do the girls still have my stuff?_

Back flip out of the way._ I can't wait to show Len that dress . . ._

The mind may have been elsewhere, but the instincts knew what to do. I drew Final Vent and dispatched the creature before I realized I had done it.

That's when I saw them.

The boys were waiting for me not far away, suited up even though there hadn't been a need for them to join in. They de-transformed in the same instant and came over to my side.

"Guess you didn't need our help after all," Len said.

"I didn't even know you were here," I told him, blushing under the visor. I was still in the armor, and I didn't want to change until they were gone.

"You really know how to make a guy feel wanted," Kit quipped. "Can we at least escort you home?"

"No," I said, "I'll meet up with the girls and they'll bring me home. We shouldn't be long."

"Can I see your face before we go?" Len asked.

"No! I mean, not till the Big Reveal. Go home, I'll see you soon."

"What's up with that?" Kit wanted to know, as the boys took off.

"Must be a girl thing," Len said, and then I went back to the restroom and through the mirror. I almost landed on an elderly lady, but I apologized profusely and got out of there in a hurry.

It felt like I had been gone ages, but the girls were still waiting for me in the same spot. "Problem solved?" Maya asked.

I nodded. "Let's go."

This time, I didn't tune out the happy girl chatter. I actually joined in, and for the first time, I felt like I belonged. I never had girlfriends before. Kind of hard when there aren't any other girls around. But now I could see the value of having other females to talk to. There are some things that guys just don't understand.


	33. Unresolved

One afternoon Len was alone in the apartment when there was a knock on the door. _Who's that? _he wondered, knowing that Kit and Kase, who were both out on separate errands, had their own keys.

He went and answered the door.

"Hi, Len," Maya said. "Um, is Kit here, by any chance?"

"No, he's out. Something I can help you with?"

"I just wanted to give him something," she said.

"Well, you can give it to me, and I'll give it to him when he comes home."

"Sure. Could I come in?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Come on in. Don't mind the mess," he said, stepping over a couch cushion that had skidded across the floor.

"Oh, you should see my place. It's a lot worse than this."

"Really? You never struck me as the messy type."

"Not really messy, just busy. Between work and my . . . other stuff, I barely have time to do my laundry. This place doesn't look that bad, actually."

"You should have seen it half an hour ago." He motioned for her to sit down. "Can I get you anything? A drink or something?"

"No, I'm fine. I can't really stay too long."

"That's too bad. I mean, you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Thanks." She smiled at him, and he reflected on how pretty she was when she smiled. Actually, she was pretty all the time. He knew he shouldn't be thinking these thoughts, but he couldn't help it. It wasn't just that she was pretty; she was a good person, and he'd met far too few of those lately.

"You had something for Kit?" he asked her.

"Oh. Yes, here it is." It was an audio CD she had burned from her computer. "He asked me about this band a few days ago, and i promised to make a copy for him. So, um, here it is."

"I'll make sure I give it to him." He set it on the coffee table, where he'd be sure to see it and remember. "Was

there anything else?"

"No," she said. "I should be going."

"You don't have to."

"I really do, though. Lot of stuff to do." She stood up, and he stood as well and walked her to the door. "Um, thanks for--"

And then he leaned forward to open the door, and suddenly his lips were on hers, and he saw the look in her eyes before she surrendered and gave in to the kiss--

And he woke up with a start.

It was the front door slamming that had awoken him. Kit came in and took off his jacket, draping it over a chair. "Hey, Len."

"What time is it?" he said, shifting over and swinging his legs over the side of the couch.

"It's quarter past four. Did you get the dishes done?"

For a moment, he couldn't remember. Then he got up and looked in the sink. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"You guess?"

"Sorry, I had this really weird dream. Is it still the same day?"

'Uh, yeah." Kit gave him a weird look, as if questioning his mental health.

Then Len saw the CD on the coffee table, and he remembered what had really happened. Maya had come over, just like in the dream, and it had all gone pretty much the same --right up to the point where he kissed her. That was only in the dream.

Where had that come from?

"This is yours," he said, giving Kit the CD. "Maya brought it over for you."

"Great! Thanks, dude. Thank her, too, for me."

"Yeah, sure." He changed the subject quickly. "So where'd you go?"

"I went to see my dad. Then on the way home, I got some milk. We were running out this morning."

"Good thinking." He had completely missed that. "Just put it in the fridge for now."

"Okay." He put it on the top shelf, behind the juice. Then he came and sat down in one of the chairs. "Anything happen while I was gone?"

"Not really. It's been quiet here."

"Oh. Okay, then. Whose turn is it to make dinner tonight?"

Len had to think about it. "Yours."

"Oh. Where should I call? Pizza? Chinese? Tacos?"

"Does that chicken place deliver?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Get a family size meal, then. You have enough money to pay for it?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

They heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Kase was home. "Someone want to give me a hand with this?" she called out from behind a big paper grocery bag.

Len got up and took the bag from her, carrying it over to the counter. "What did you get?"

"Well, I saw we were running low on milk, so I bought two cartons."

Kit laughed. "I bought milk, too! Guess we won't need any more for a while. What else did you get?"

"The usual stuff-- bread, peanut butter, paper towels . . . and some movie snacks. You promised something really special tonight. We still on for that?"

"Yeah. You're really gonna like this movie. I saw it in the video store the other night, and I thought it was just perfect. And that's all I'll say about that. Don't want to ruin the surprise." Kit went and hung his jacket up in the closet where it belonged, and then went to make the call for dinner.

Len decided that now would be a good time to talk things over with Kase. She had a right to know what was going on in his head.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said.

"Sure." She sat down beside him, her hand on his knee. He wanted to move it, but didn't have the nerve to ask her. Not with what he was about to tell her.

"Before you came home," he started, "I had this dream. About Maya."

Kase nodded, not sure where this was going.

"About kissing Maya."

"Have you had a lot of these dreams?"

"No, this was the first time. But . . . this kind of thing just doesn't come from nowhere."

"Well, do you have conscious feelings for her?"

"No! I mean, I like her, but only as a friend."

"Your subconscious thinks otherwise."

"What are you saying?"

She shifted so that she was looking directly at him. "Remember the conversation we had after that dumb story came out? About how you had feelings for Maya, before I came back?"

"Yeah. So?"

"You told me you never talked to her about it."

"Well, there wouldn't have been any point in it."

"You need to resolve this once and for all. Tell her about it. Maybe once you do, the dreams will stop."

"What if I just end up hurting her?"

"Len, I know you. You'd never hurt your friends. You'll find a way to tell her without hurting her. I trust you."

"I know you do." Len nodded. "I should go call her now."

"She'll be here in about an hour."

"What?"

"I invited her to come watch the movie with us. She said she was free, so I took the initiative."

"Well, you've never been shy, that's for sure."

"When she gets here, you can get her alone and talk to her."

"Before the movie? Let's watch it first, in case things go wrong."

"Nothing's going to go wrong. Everything will be fine."

"I just don't want her to think that I--"

"Len, stop overthinking this, and just do it!"

"All right!" He threw his hands up in surrender. "You win. I'll do it."

But he still didn't feel right about it.

***

Len could hardly get through dinner, for all the worry. It must have showed on his face, because Kase reached over and touched his hand.

"It's going to be all right," she said.

"What is?" Kit was out of the loop as far as this whole matter went.

"I just want to make sure everything goes right," Len said.

"What goes right? What's going on, guys?"

Len and Kase looked at each other and laughed.

"**What**? Come on, talk to me! We don't keep secrets from each other! What's going **on**?"

Finally, Len gave in and told him. "It's about Maya," he said. "I had this dream about her, and Kase thinks I should talk to her about it."

"That's why you were so out of it?"

"Yeah. Kase thinks I have . . . unresolved feelings for her, and I need to settle this."

"Well, do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Have feelings for her?"

"I did. Not anymore. But Kase thinks that until I talk to her about it, I won't be able to put this behind me."

"Whoa. That is so . . . weird." Kit seemed almost amused by the prospect of Len together with Maya. "And she doesn't know?"

"No, I never told her. After Kase came back, it became a moot point. Except in my subconscious. I don't know . . ."

"What? You think she's gonna get mad?"

"Who? Maya? I don't know. Has she ever mentioned anything about . . ."

"Not to me, she hasn't. She was all over JTC until she found out he was working for the other side. She doesn't like being used."

"Who would?" Kase asked. "She'll be fine. She knows you're her friend, and you don't want to hurt her. Just talk to her, and everything will be fine."

"All right." Len still felt like so many things could go wrong, but he tried not to think about that. He finished his dinner, and cleared the table even though it wasn't his night.

"Boy, he's really worried about this," Kit said to Kase.

"I think this has been bothering him for a long time," she said. "He just can't let it go."

"And you think that opening up to her about how he feels will help?"

"He needs closure. This will do it. I think. I hope."

"I hope so, too."

A little while later, Maya showed up at the door. She hadn't even hung up her jacket before Len asked her to come into the other room with him.

"Sure," she said. "What's this all about?"

"It's, um . . " He trailed off, cleared his throat, and gave it another try. "I wasn't sure whether I should bring this up. But Kase said I had to-- to resolve this . . ."

Maya had never seen the Kamen Rider so flustered, at a loss for words. "Take your time," she said. "It's okay."

"Okay. Well, um . . . this afternoon, after you left, I had this dream. About you. About me, kissing you."

She nodded, wondering where this was going.

"See, I . . . I've always admired you. Your courage and determination . . . almost from the moment I met you, I liked you."

"Okay," she said. "I like you, too."

"I mean . . . you know."

"Oh."

"I thought Kase was gone forever. I realize now that what I saw and loved about you was the same thing I love about Kase. You two are a lot alike, in some ways."

"So what is it you're saying?"

He looked deep into her eyes. "I value your friendship. But, you and I . . . it can just never be."

He sat back and waited to see what her response would be.

"And you never told me this because . . .?"

"Because I didn't want to hurt you, if you did have those feelings for me."

She leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek. "Len, you're such a sweet guy. I can't believe you let this tear you up inside because you were worried about my feelings. I like having you as a friend, too. You're like the big brother who takes care of everyone. Don't let your concern for other people get in the way of taking care of yourself. Your feelings matter, too."

He smiled at her, relieved that his worst fears hadn't come true. "I'll remember that," he said. "Let's go watch the movie now."

"Sure," she said, getting up. "What is it?"

"I don't know. Kit said it was a surprise."

"Let's go be surprised, then."

They came out just as the opening credits were starting. "What is this?" Len asked.

"_Across the Universe_," Kit told him. "I got it with you in mind. It's a love story, set to Beatles songs."

"Sounds like fun," Maya said, and she sat on the couch next to Kase.

Len did enjoy the movie. The company made it all the more special. Love stories, he reflected, should always be watched with people you love, and who love you. Even if it's just as a friend. Sometimes that's the best kind.


	34. Never Again

_(Author's note: Hi there! Just a few things: first, check out Kamen Rider Lynx's story A Griffin's Tale, in the Crossovers section. It's really interesting!_

_Second, to vampiregirl2009: I'm not sure what you meant in your last review. Could you send me a PM explaining what it is you want? Thanks!_

_And third, Mirror's Mirage has a very important survey for you to take! It's in her profile, so go now! Well, after you read this, I mean._

_And, on with the show!)_

_***_

I had a surprise for everyone at breakfast one day. I put a small green capsule at each place.

"What's this?" Kit asked.

"Something I picked up at the natural foods store. It's supposed to boost immune function."

"Sounds like exactly what we need," said Kase.

"I should have looked for this a long time ago." I turned to Kit. "After you had that awful flu."

"What awful flu? I don't remember--"

"I'm not surprised. You were pretty out of it most of the time. It was right after I moved in. You were so sick, I thought I was going to lose you."

***

I could see it coming on long before it became a problem. The way Kit would keep clearing his throat, sometimes three or four times in a row. The surreptitious swipes at his nose when he thought I wasn't looking. The way he suddenly started drinking water like it was going out of style.

I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but wasn't sure he'd tell me. How different he was, in that respect, from Adam. Adam loved the attention, went to bed at the first sign of illness, and at his worst, he could be very demanding.

Kit wasn't like that. It seemed he didn't want to bother me with his problems. Meanwhile he kept getting worse and worse. I knew he was sick, could tell it was the same flu I'd had the week before, yet he never said a word. I began to think we'd carry on like this until he fell over and died.

Then one day we were coming back from somewhere, and he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and started coughing. Not just little coughs, either. Deep, heavy hacking coughs that sounded like his lungs were shredding themselves apart. He fell to his knees, still coughing, his hands out in front of him keeping his balance.

_Oh, Kit. How could you let it get to this?_

I knelt down next to him and held him until the coughing fit let up enough for him to breathe. And that didn't sound too good, either. _Good God, how long has this been going on?_

"We're going home," I said as I helped him up. "Now."

"I'm . . . I'm fi--"

"Don't try to tell me you're fine." I'd heard of stoics, but this kid had them all beat. "I know you've been sick for days now. Why didn't you say something?" Why hadn't **I **spoken up before it got to this stage?

"I . . . I don't know," he gasped.

"Look at me."

He looked up at me, or at least in my direction. I was struck by how terrible he looked. The dark circles under his wet, red eyes . . . how could I not have seen this?

_You're not his babysitter._

True, but I was his partner. Partners should trust each other. If he couldn't even trust me enough to tell me he wasn't feeling well, what did that mean for the future?

"We are going home," I told him, "and you are going to bed." As his mouth opened to protest, I added, "Don't even try to argue with me."

He drew in a breath to say something, and then he was falling forward, toward the pavement,

"Kit!" I reached out and caught him. He was burning up, and I could hear the breath wheezing in and out of his lungs. I needed to get him home, **now**.

Somehow I managed to drag him off the street and inside the building. I looked for an elevator-- no way I was going to be able to carry him up all those stairs. It was on the far side of the lobby, and I pushed the call button, propping Kit up against the wall to take some of the weight off my shoulders. When it finally came, I held the button down so the door would stay open while I hauled Kit inside.

When we got to our floor, I held the "Door Open" button this time while I tried to get Kit out into the hallway. He was still out cold, and I was really getting worried.

And, of course, the elevator had to be on the other side of the building from the apartment. Just think of it as extra weight training, I told myself, as I half carried, half dragged the kid down the hall. Eventually we found ourselves in front of our own front door.

I fumbled around in Kit's pockets for the key, finally finding it in the right front. I opened the door, and began the long, slow work of getting Kit to his room, undressed, and into bed.

***

Once the kid was settled, I looked for things to help him. In the bathroom, I found that awful flu medicine he'd given me the week before. Nasty-tasting stuff, but it actually worked. I grabbed it, along with a thermometer, and then wet a washcloth under the faucet and wrung it out. When I went back to the bedroom, I laid it across his forehead. He stirred a little, but didn't wake up.

I wondered if he was dreaming.

If he didn't wake up soon, I'd have to wake him up to give him the medicine, and I didn't want to do that if I didn't have to. I decided to wait a little while longer.

I left him just long enough to get myself something to eat. When I came back, I took his temperature. 103.4. Fraz. Had to get it down, fast.

I went and re-wet the washcloth, came back, and wiped down his face, the back of his neck, down onto his chest. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at me, but I wasn't sure if he was really seeing me. Now would be a good time to try and give him the medicine.

I opened the child proof cap and poured out the dosage into the little cup. Then I put it to his lips, hoping he would be able to swallow it.

"Come on, Kit, you have to drink this."

"Dad?" he whispered.

I was a bit worried that he didn't seem to know who I was, but flattered that he had mistaken me for someone he loved so much. "Ssh. Don't talk, just drink." I shifted him against the pillows so that he could sit up.

I wasn't sure if he was going to be able to swallow, but he managed it. Then he started coughing, and I rubbed his back until he was able to get the rest of it down. "Easy, easy."

I just hoped it would work. That cough sounded serious, and I promised myself that if he didn't start getting better tomorrow, I would take him to the hospital. How I was going to do that, on the back of my bike, I didn't think about.

I didn't want to go out to the other room to sleep, and leave him alone. I found a sleeping bag on the top shelf of the closet, and I spread it out on the floor right beside his bed. That way, if he woke up in the night and needed anything, I'd be there.

I needn't have worried; he slept soundly, all night long.

The next day was the real trial.

***

I woke about five in the morning to the sound of that horrible coughing. If anything, it sounded worse. The medicine must have worn off. I reached up for it on the table, but it wasn't there. Then I remembered I had put it back in the bathroom. I went and got it, and when I came back, I saw that Kit was awake. Or at least, his eyes were open.

"Kit?"

He started coughing, and I went to him, medicine in hand. "It's okay, I'm here. I think it's time for some more medicine."

He looked up at me. God, he looked so awful. I promised myself that if his temperature didn't go down, or that cough didn't let up, by tonight, I was calling someone. I wasn't sure who, but this was getting out of my control.

I tried giving him the medicine, but he was having trouble swallowing, and it took a few tries to get it all down. That was not a good sign. I laid a hand on his forehead; his fever was still pretty high. "Let's hope this fever of yours goes down soon. I don't want to have to drag you to the hospital." I didn't know if he could even hear me. He was pretty close to delirium, and I was really getting scared.

I went into the bathroom and wet the washcloth again, and ran it over his face, trying desperately to cool him down. I watched as he closed his eyes and moaned, turning his face up to the lovely cool wetness. I just hoped it was helping.

When I got up to go re-wet the cloth, he reached up for me. "No . . . don't . . . don't leave . . ."

Where did he think I was going? "I'm right here," I said, sitting down in the chair next to the bed. "I'll stay right here, as long as it takes."

His eyes cracked themselves open, looked straight up, and then closed again. Good, the medicine must be kicking in.

I sat up with him all night, listening to the sound of his steady, even breathing. It sounded better, but I couldn't be sure. At around four in the morning, I checked his temperature: 101.9. Thank God, it was finally going down. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief; he was going to be okay after all.

I slept sitting up in the chair. It wasn't too comfortable, but I wanted to be there when he woke up. He'd done the same for me, and I hadn't been anywhere near as sick. It was the least I could do.

I woke up a few hours later, stiff and sore. Getting up to stretch, I looked over at Kit. He was still asleep. Good; I could go take a shower before he woke up.

But when I went to grab a change of clothes and then looked in on him, his eyes were open, and clear for the first time in days.

"You're awake," I said, stating the obvious.

He looked over at me. "How long have I been out?" he asked.

I had to think about it. It felt like forever. "On and off," I said, "about two days."

"Two days?"

I could see him struggling to get up, but he couldn't quite manage it. "Your fever finally broke last night. Guess the medicine did the trick."

"Maybe." Kit had a strange smile on his face. "I thought my dad was here."

He remembered that? "I know. You kept calling for him."

"It was you, though, wasn't it?"

Not that that was a huge leap of deduction. It was only the two of us, after all. "Yeah. We've only got each other." It was a sad truth, but, on the other hand, it meant that neither of us would ever be alone again. "Besides, you took care of me when I was sick. I was just returning the favor."

"Well, thanks, man." He yanked his blankets back onto the bed. They had slid onto the floor sometime during the night. Or he'd kicked them off. Adam used to do that, too.

"I'm going to go take a shower," I told him. Now that I knew he was okay, I could leave him for a little while. "Call me if you need anything."

"Maybe some breakfast?"

I took that as a good sign. Besides, I could use some food myself. I hadn't eaten anything in . . . I had to think . . . about a day and a half. "We'll see."

When I left him, he was lying back on the bed, his eyes closed, and I thought he might be going back to sleep. Which was okay; in fact, it was probably a good thing. But when I came in to check on him, after I had showered and dressed, he rolled over and looked at me.

"What?"

"I want you to promise me something," I said.

***

"Oh, now this part I remember," Kit said.

***

"Promise you what?"

"The next time you start feeling sick, even if you think it's nothing, tell me. Before it gets to the passing-out-in-the-street phase."

"It's not like I kept it from you on purpose--"

"I know. But I could tell you were sick long before you passed out. Next time, say something. I'm here to help you. Okay?"

Kit looked at me a little strangely, but he nodded anyway

***

"I had no idea it was that bad," Kit said now. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"There didn't seem any point, after it was all over." I shook my head, remembering those few moments of panic. "Anyway, that won't ever happen again."

"We can only hope," said Kase. "What if this thing doesn't work?"

"It can't be any worse than last week."

"Oh, I don't know," Kit said. "It was kinda fun cuddling up together like that."

"Fun for you, maybe," Kase said. "You weren't as miserable as I was."

"Come on, admit it. You liked it."

"Well . . . snuggling was nice, but . . ."

"But nothing. You enjoyed it as much as I did."

She looked helplessly at me for support, but I only said, "He's right. You did like it."

"Parts of it. And other parts, I never want to go through again." She picked up the capsule and swallowed it with the last of her tea. "There."

"What's it taste like?" Kit asked.

"Chalk. I don't care, as long as it works."

"It'll work," I said. "I wouldn't give you something that didn't work."

"You take such good care of us," she said, laying her hand on top of mine. "Thanks."

"Just doing my job," I said.


	35. The First Time

_(Author's note, to vampiregirl2009: you seem to have a pretty good handle on the story you want told. Why don't you take a crack at it? i'd love to see it when it's done. Just send me the link.)_

"My first time?" Kit said. "It was with Jennifer Kressner from my math class. We did it in the coat room after class."

"Wow," said Trent. "What about yours, Len?"

"My first time was when we were about sixteen. We were in the garden--"

"In the **garden**? In front of everyone?"

"Well, no. No one else was there."

"That would have been embarrassing," Kit said.

"Not really. We were taught to always be open about our bodies and our emotions. Everyone already knew about us, so it wasn't a big surprise."

"What was it like?" Trent asked eagerly.

"It was sweet and soft and wonderful."

"Really?"

"What about you?" Kit asked Trent. "What was it like for you?"

"Oh, I, um . . . haven't, yet."

"No way!" Kit was shocked. "You haven't even kissed a girl yet?"

"Not a real kiss."

"Not even to see what it was like?"

"I never got up the courage to ask anyone."

"That's a shame. We'll have to get you set up with someone soon." Kit looked over his shoulder, towards the bedroom. "What do you suppose they're talking about in there?"

"Us," Trent said.

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah. All the things that they hate about us. All the things we do that drive them crazy. All the stuff that they can't stand."

"And you would know this . . . how, exactly?"

"I might have, just by accident, listened in on a few phone conversations. Just for a minute, totally by accident."

"Right," Kit said. "An accident. Totally." His tone suggested that perhaps he was just a little bit skeptical.

"Should we go spy on the girls or what?" Trent seemed very interested in what the girls were up to in the other room.

"Not just yet," Kit said. "I want to hear about what went on in the garden between you and Kase," he said to Len. "How exactly did that come about? What was the moment when you knew she was the one?"

"There wasn't really a moment." Len stared off into the distance as he remembered that long ago time. "Well, maybe there was. We were about sixteen, I think, and one day I just looked up, and . . . she was a girl."

"You never noticed she was a girl before?" Trent asked, an incredulous look on his face. "How could you not notice?"

"It just wasn't an issue, okay? We had other things on our minds."

"Okay! Touchy subject, or what?" Trent looked at Kit with a strange expression. "A school full of guys, and one girl? Must have been like the Smurf village."

"The what?" asked Len.

"You've never heard of the Smurfs?"

"No."

"Remind me to bring over my DVD collection some time. So how come you were the one?" Trent asked. "Out of all the guys she could have picked, why you? Why not one of the others?"

Len shook his head. "Just lucky, I guess."

He thought back to that day in the garden. It had been a quiet Sunday morning in early summer, warm and bright. Just wandering around, for the sheer joy of being in the open air on such a beautiful day, he had come upon Kase practicing the Seven Forms in a grassy patch.

He stood watching her move from First Form to Second to Third, wanting to do more than just watch. But he knew better than to disturb her during her exercises. He waited until she was done, and then he went to her and said, "Great job. You were able to hold yourself up in Fifth Form for longer than I ever could."

"How long were you watching?" she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"I didn't want to interrupt you," he told her. "I know what happened to the last guy who tried that."

"Well, Chance shouldn't have snuck up on me like that!"

"You didn't have to smack him in the face!"

"I didn't mean to! I just--he just got in the way!"

"Exactly. I didn't want to get in your way."

"You really thought I did okay?" she asked hopefully.

"You did better than okay. You were really great."

"Well, thanks." She smiled at him, and his heart skipped a beat. "We could practice together, if you want. Go ahead and take your shoes off."

So he did. He took a stance about two feet behind her, then began to do some warm-up moves to limber up, all the time keeping his eyes focused on the nearby wall. While he did that, Kase closed her eyes and did some deep breathing to match his own.

When they moved, they were in such perfect sync that they seemed one being. Not until the very end of the sequence did either of them start to deviate from the pattern, and then only by the slimmest margin possible.

They finished at more or less the same moment, and it was a moment before either of them said anything. Then Kase sat down on her mat and said, "Thanks. It's nice to have company sometimes."

"Glad I could help." Len sat on the grass a few feet away from her. And suddenly he felt the desire to be closer to her. He scooted over a bit until he was on the edge of the mat.

"Don't be shy," she said. "Come sit right here. There's room."

So he moved over right next to her. It was a strange sensation. He'd known her for years, had trained with her, hung out with her, drunk "tea" with her. And yet, he'd never felt anything close to what he was feeling right now. He wanted to . . . to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her.

But he couldn't.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him, and he turned to look at her.

"Nothing."

"Come on, tell me."

"Okay. But don't get mad. I was thinking about . . . kissing you."

He turned away, waiting for her to make the next move. What she did next stunned him. She leaned in, whispered, "What's wrong with that?", and then her lips were on his. They felt so soft. He just sat there for a moment, and then he returned the kiss, hoping that he was doing it right. Not that either of them had much experience to know what the right way was.

After a while, they sort of came apart, looking away from each other as if they had done something wrong. Neither one spoke right away.

Finally Len decided he should say something. "Um, maybe we should go inside. It's gotten cloudy all of a sudden."

She looked up. "Yeah, you're right. We'd better go in."

It was the moment when everything changed, when they went from being friends to being . . . something more. Though they never spoke of the incident, somehow everyone knew. It was obvious just looking at them. They were in love.

***

Meanwhile, the girls were in the bedroom, sharing a bag of fat-free popcorn and talking about pretty much the same thing. They were laughing at the weird stuff that happened in the movie, and then during the boring parts, they criticized the characters' dress sense.

"Gold shoes with **that **dress?" Lacey said. "Uh uh! No way!"

"Yeah, that's pretty bad," Maya concurred.

"And what is with that tie he's wearing? It practically glows in the dark!"

"I think it's kind of cute," said Kase.

The other two girls looked at her.

"What? I like the characters! I used to watch that cartoon sometimes!"

"I can't picture you watching cartoons," Maya said.

"Oh, sure. I was always a big cartoon buff. In fact, I never missed a single Bugs Bunny short if I could help it. I loved Porky Pig."

"You don't strike me as a Porky fan," Lacey observed. "I had you pegged for a big anime fan, myself."

"I've never seen any anime, whatever that is."

"Japanese animation," Maya explained. "It evolved after the end of the Second World War, when the Americans left Japan and--"

She would have continued, but her audience were distracted by a brief snatch of conversation from the other room.

"--bad fall, and I nearly split my head open. If Kase hadn't been there--"

Maya looked at Kase. "What happened?"

"He was . . ." She smiled at the memory. "He was getting one of the boys down from the top of the tower--our training equipment. And he fell. We were just learning how to use our healing powers, and I was the only one who was any good at it yet. So they brought him to me."

***

"What happened?"

The kid (Kase couldn't remember his name) was still crying and screaming his head off. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It's my fault! It's all my--"

"It's okay, Ryan," said Nolan, who was trying to clean the boy up and deal with his relatively minor injuries. "It was an accident. No one's blaming you for what happened."

"He's dead! He's dead, I killed him . . ."

"He's not dead," Kase told him. "He's going to be okay. We'll fix him."

She couldn't look at him. She refused to believe that anything so catastrophic could happen to . . . to someone like Len.

"What happened?" she asked again.

It was Adam, who had seen the whole thing from across the quad, who answered. "Ryan got stuck way up in the top of the tower, up where all the bars connect, and Len climbed up to get him. He was doing all right until he seized up all of a sudden, like he was having a cramp or something, and then he . . . he fell, and . . . there was this big thud . . ."

The boy, not much older than Ryan, began to cry in huge sobs that shook his whole body. Kase wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she was afraid that if she did, she would start crying as well.

"Come here, buddy," said Price. "Give Kase some room to work."

"I can't do this," she said. "Can't Master Eubulon do it?"

"He's not here."

She looked at him in surprise.

"He left this morning on a personal errand. He wouldn't say what it was. And he won't be back till tonight."

"We can't wait that long." She forced herself to look at the massive crater in the side of Len's head. Most of the blood had been cleaned off, but there was still a lot of damage to his delicate skull. If she didn't do this now, he would . . .

No. Don't think of that. Concentrate.

_Let the energy flow through you. Don't force it--__**direct **__it. Channel it to where you need it to go._

She summoned all her strength and then placed her hands on the sides of his head.

"You can do it," she said, and then she felt it, coming out of her body, a warmth that poured like water into the hole in Len's head. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't be distracted by the few people still in the room. After what felt like an eternity, she opened them again and took a look at her handiwork.

The huge head wound was knitting itself back together. Flesh and bone were repairing themselves as if by magic.

_Don't think, don't think . . ._

If she thought about it, she might lose it. So she focused on just **doing**. She was intent on finishing the job--external damage was one thing, but the damage to the brain that she couldn't see had to be serious, and she couldn't leave Len like that. She was still connected to him when the energy began to fade.

_No!_

She couldn't lose him now! Not when she was so close . . . she shook off her rising panic and redoubled her efforts. Tears in her eyes, she tried to get some kind of response from Len, but there was nothing. The energy started to fade again.

"No, please--"

"Kase," Price said softly. "It's working. You've done it."

"Then why doesn't he wake up?"

"He will. Give him a minute."

It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, sit there and wait for him to show signs of life. Every second felt like a thousand years. Every minute was an eternity, and the time it took to finish the healing act seemed to drag out in an endless loop. She felt like she was being tortured . . .

And then she saw Len's eyes began to open, just slightly, and her heart leapt in her chest. And he was looking up at her, and he said, "Hey."

"Hey." She wanted to throw her arms around him and never let go, but she held back until she was sure he was okay. "You scared the life out of all of us."

"Is Ryan okay?"

Kase had to smile at that. "They brought you in here with your head smashed in, and you're worried about Ryan? Yeah, he's fine." She ran a hand through her hair, feeling so tired she could almost drop right on the spot. It was the healing; it had taken more out of her than she had thought. But she wouldn't leave him until she knew he was out of danger.

She put her head down on his chest, and cried tears of relief.

***

"Aw," Maya said. "That's so sweet."

"So what happened next?" asked Lacey.

"What do you mean? That's it." Kase looked up to see that the movie was over already. "Should we back it up to the part we missed?"

The girls looked at each other. "No," Maya said. "We should be going now, anyway."

They went out into the living room, where the guys were watching the end of their own movie. Trent looked up. "Done talking about us already?"

"You wish," said Lacey. "Come on, time to go."

"Just let me see the end of this," he pleaded.

Maya glanced at the screen. "You've seen this a hundred times!"

"And the ending is the best part!"

She sighed. "Five minutes. Then we leave, with or without you."

"Okay, okay!"

Kase sat down on the floor beside Len and wondered what firsts were still to come for them. Was there anything they hadn't done together? What could they look forward to in the coming days?

Little did they know . . . everything was about to change.


	36. Old Times

"So what have you been up to," Price asked Len, "while we were in the Big Sleep?"

"You better not have had too much fun without us," Chance added. "You know I'll never forgive you."

"It's great having you back," Len said. He looked from one to another, remembering how it used to be. Next to Adam, these guys had been his best friends, sharing everything with him. "We had some good times, didn't we?"

"You know what I remember most?" Hunt asked the others.

"What?"

"The play."

Price winced and said, "I was hoping you'd never mention that again."

"What?" said Chance. "It was brilliant! **I **was brilliant!"

"No, you weren't," said Len.

"You should have stuck to comics," said Hunt. "The comics were cool. Adapting them to the stage . . . not so much."

***

The comics had started as a little doodle in the back of a notebook. A few weeks later, three-panel comic strips about a team of superheroes and the evil alien they were fighting appeared on bulletin boards all over the school.

The comics were a big hit with everyone on campus, and it was only a few months before talk started to circulate about adapting the strip for another medium.

"We should do a play," Chance suggested.

"A play?" Price hadn't thought about that.

"I'll help you with the script."

"No, thanks. I'll stick to someone who can actually write." He started to get up, but then Chance said, "And I have the perfect Negatar, too." Negatar was the evil alien villain.

"Really?" He sat back down. "Who?"

Chance said nothing, just nodded across the room.

"Len?"

"Tall, dark, and imposing. Perfect for the part."

"Let's get the actual script written before we go making casting decisions."

"So I'm in?"

Sigh. "Fine. But don't you dare mess this up for me. I don't want my story that I created to turn into a big joke."

"Don't worry about a thing. I've got it all under control."

Rehearsals were held in the Common Room to start with, then when the sets were ready (stapled together out of cardboard and glitter), they moved to the main auditorium, usually used for school assemblies and such.

"And . . . enter!" Chance had insisted on directing as well as producing. He would have written the script as well, but Price wouldn't let him get his hands on more than one page at a time. "Where is Lady Simta?"

"Why do I have to be a girl?" Adam moaned, pulling at the itchy fabric of the dress.

_Because there are three female parts, and only two girls on campus,_ Price thought, wishing that they hadn't done this.

"Because you're such a good actor," Chance told him. "You can pull off a female part, and no one else can."

"Why don't you just make Lady Simta a boy?"

"Because she's a girl. She's a girl in the comic, and she has to be a girl in the play."

"And she dies at the end," the boy whined. "I don't want to do a death scene!"

"Death scenes are what make truly great actors shine! You give us the best, most dramatic death scene you can, and i promise you, everyone will remember it!"

Boy, was he laying it on thick. Chance had a gift for dishing out the bull and making it taste like ice cream. He could talk anyone into anything, and make them think it was their own idea. If he ever flunked out of Training School, he could have a remarkable future in politics.

"Okay, where is our leading man? Oh, Quinn! It's your scene!"

Quinn, in a costume so covered in chrome that if he went out on the street he would be in danger of being mistaken for a Buick, took the stage. "I can't do this," he said. "I can't remember all these lines."

"Sure you can! Just do it one line at a time. Once you've got one line down, move on to the next one. You can do it, Captain Syzlyx."

"I think I should be someone else. Someone who doesn't have as many lines."

"Nah, you'll do fine! One line at a time, buddy. What's your first one in this scene? You remember?"

Quinn stood in a heroic pose, screwed up his face in such a way as to suggest he was lifting a heavy weight, and . . . couldn't come up with the line. "I can't," he said.

"It's 'Assemble the team!' You can remember that, can't you?"

Quinn nodded, then looked over at Adam. "You're Lady Simta?"

"Yeah. Oh, no." Adam had just remembered a key plot point in the comic. "We have to kiss, don't we?"

"I'm not kissing him!" Quinn insisted. "I'm not doing this!"

"You'll have your eyes closed," Chance pointed out. "Just pretend it's someone else."

"We can cut the kissing scenes," Price said.

"No, don't rewrite the whole script just because our actors are getting temperamental." Chance started pacing back and forth across the aisle. "I'll think of something. We'll do the kissing scenes last."

"I don't want to do them at all," said Quinn.

"Let's just do the first act scenes now, and we'll worry about the kissing later. Take it from where Captain Syzlyx makes his entrance."

They did the same scene five times before giving up. "I'll rewrite the scene," Price said.

It was now two days before opening night, and nothing was going right. The scenery, which had been hastily constructed of tacked-together cardboard, kept falling down all the time. Adam was having wardrobe issues, Quinn was having script issues, and Len was having character issues.

"You're supposed to be the bad guy!" Chance yelled at him. "You're supposed to be menacing, and you come off as mildly annoyed! Try to put a little more evil into it."

"I'm just not feeling evil," Len said.  
"You have to! All right, look: you're the only one who's actually met Xaviax face to face, right?"

Len nodded, shuddering at the memory. It had been years ago, but he would never forget those cold, dead eyes, so at odds with the rest of the smiling face.

"So, channel that impression. Be scary. You have to convince us that you really can destroy a planet. Let's try the whole scene again, from the top!"

Cam accidentally put his plastic sword through the spaceship "wall", a light fell down, and by that time Price was so fed up with the whole thing that he walked out, vowing to have nothing more to do with the production.

Chance caught up to him in the hall. "What's the matter, man?"

"What's the **matter**? You saw what happened in there! It's a total disaster! We'll never be ready for opening night at this rate!"

"Okay, I know we're having a few problems--"

"A few? Name one single thing that went right in there!"

"Some of the actors kind of know what they're doing."

"Well, I've had it. I'm done with this whole fiasco. If you want to go ahead and make fools of yourselves, you can do it without me." He started down the hall towards the dorms, but Chance ran after him.

"Come on, you can't do this! We need you! It was you and your brilliant vision that inspired this whole production in the first place!"

"Forget it! This is a total joke! I'm sorry I ever agreed to this whole sorry production. I'm going to my room!"

"Don't leave us!"

But he was already gone.

The dorms were pretty quiet, since everybody was at play rehearsal. The ones who weren't were studying quietly, like Price's roommate, Hunt.

"I thought you were at rehearsal," he said, as Price slammed the door.

"What's the point? It's a total farce from beginning to end! Nothing's going right, no one will do what they're supposed to, and when it all goes wrong, everyone will blame me! It's all such a mess, and I don't know what to do!"

"So you just bailed on them?"

"What else could I do? There's no way to fix everything in two days!"

"You're not even gonna try?" Hunt had put his book down on the study table and was giving Price his full attention.

"Try to what? Make everyone memorize pages of dialogue overnight? Turn Adam into a girl? Build sets that will stay up for more than five minutes at a time? What's the point of it all?" He sat down hard on his bed and buried his face in his hands.

"Your problem is you're looking at too big a picture. Break it down, and we'll find solutions to each problem as it comes up. It's simple."

"I thought you didn't care," Price said.

"Just because I'm not interested doesn't mean I won't help. What's the first thing that came up that we need to deal with?"

The rehearsal was about to break up when suddenly the auditorium doors slammed open.

"I'm back," Price said, "and there are going to be some changes around here." He started with the most obvious problem. "Chance, you wanted to be Captain Syzlyx. You're in."

"But . . . I thought I was Captain Syzlyx," Quinn said, confused.

"Do you still want to be?"

"If I say no, am I out of the play?"

"Of course not. We just have to find you a smaller part with fewer lines to memorize. You can be Henchman Number One. Minimal dialogue, and most of the time you just stand around looking menacing. Think you can do that?"

"Sure can!" Quinn immediately went to work on his most menacing look.

"Does this mean I have to kiss Chance?" asked Adam with some trepidation.

"This is the no-kissing version. You're safe."

"Are you taking over as the director, too?" Len asked.

"No," said Hunt. "I am. Let's have a run-through with the new script before we talk about the other changes. We'll take it from the top. Anyone still need a script?"

"Thanks, man," Price said, as he took a seat in the front row.

"Simple problems, simple solutions." Hunt gave him a rare smile. "Sometimes it takes an outsider to see what needs to be done. It'll be fine now."

By the time opening night rolled around, almost all the kinks had been worked out. The sets were still made of cardboard and had a tendency to fall over at the wrong moment, but pretty much all the other problems were solved, or at least could be lived with. Adam still didn't want to be a girl, but after Hunt praised his acting and compared him to some of the greats of stage and screen who had dared to play female roles, he was willing to at least give it a try.

"You're still not evil enough," Price said to Len, in the final dress rehearsal.

"I don't want to go over the top with this. This is supposed to be a serious drama, not a comedy. Going all evil-overlord would be too much."

"You're just coming off as mildly annoyed. Try turning the menace dial up a few notches."

"I could try."

"Let's try Lady Simta's death scene one more time. Adam, where are you?"

"I don't want to die again! I've died three times today!" the boy complained.

"This is the last one. After this, it's all over till the performance. You're getting better at it. You didn't fall off the stage last time."

"I can't believe I did that."

"It's because you were facing the wrong way. You should be looking up at Captain Syxlyx right after you're shot, and fall towards him. You can do it, Adam. Okay, let's start from 'You'll never get away with this.' Places, everyone!"

And finally, opening night.

Things had gone much better in the last rehearsal, and the script changes made everything flow so much better. Best of all, Adam wasn't in a dress anymore, although he did still have to wear the hideous blonde wig.

"Oh, man, the whole school is out there!" Cam was peering out through the curtains at the filled auditorium. "If we screw up, everybody's gonna see it!"

"Then don't screw up," Hunt told him. "Where is Chance? Captain Syzlyx is in the first scene!"

"Signing autographs," Len said bitterly. "Everyone thinks he's so wonderful just because he's the hero. His 'acting' skills consist of striking heroic poses and reading dramatic lines off a card! And **he's** the star? I'm ten times better than he is, and no one cares about me!"

It was like a light bulb went on over Hunt's head. "I think," he said, "you've found your evil place."

Len just stared at him blankly.

"You know, like your happy place? Right before you go on, you just remind yourself of how much more you deserve this than Chance. Tap into that resentment!"

"I'll try," Len said.

Price was walking around backstage getting a feel for the production. So far, so good. But so far, the curtain had yet to rise, and not a single line had been spoken.

"Maybe this won't be so bad," he said to himself.

There was a crash as Cam knocked over another piece of scenery.

"I swear, I wasn't even leaning on it that hard!" he insisted. "I barely even touched it!"

"We're doomed," Price muttered under his breath. It was two minutes to curtain.

He felt like the whole thing was about to come crashing down around him. Why had he ever agreed to this insanity in the first place? He had to call it off! He had to stop this, before it was too--

"Hey, man, you okay?"

"What?" He looked around to see who was addressing him, and found himself face to face with someone he didn't recognize. "Do I know you?"

"You know my brother."

He took a closer look. "You're Hunt's brother," he said. "Wow, you've grown."

"Yeah, I guess so. I just wanted to tell you how much we're all looking forward to this. It looks like it's gonna be really fun."

"How much have you seen of the rehearsals?"

"Just little bits, here and there. But I loved what I saw. Funnier than the Three Stooges!"

"Funny?" Price blinked in surprise. His production was funny?

"Oh, yeah! The part where Lady Simta falls off the stage? Priceless!"

That was not exactly what Price wanted to hear. He'd been hoping for people to take this seriously; instead, it had turned into a comedy. He didn't know whether to feel flattered or ticked off.

And then the curtain was going up, and Price went and took his seat, trying to put aside his anxieties and just enjoy the show. He looked around at the audience, who seemed to be focused on the play, and noticed that they were all having a good time, in spite of all the mishaps and inadvertent destruction of the scenery--whoops, there went one whole wall of the spaceship. Price started to cringe until he saw how Chance turned to the audience with a wink. 'Guess they just don't make spaceships like they used to."

And the crowd loved it! They were laughing and applauding like it was the best thing they'd ever seen. At least he knew they were enjoying it.

And then came the climactic death scene. This was the point where Adam had fallen off the stage every time, the second time onto the lighting tech, causing a major blackout in the auditorium. This was the reason there was now a cushion on the floor in front of the stage.

"Negatar" had his laser pistol out and was threatening Captain Syzlyx. "You should die for your insolent behavior!"

"I'm not afraid to die!" said Chance, striking a dramatic pose.

Only Price noticed Len rolling his eyes. "Fine," he said, turned, and shot Lady Simta.

Adam just stood there for a second. Then he looked down at the spot where the red paint pellet had hit his chest. "Oh," he said, without much emotion. "I am . . . shot!"

And he toppled over, but not backwards off the stage this time. He fell forward, and since everyone was expecting him to fall off the stage again, no one was there to catch him. He hit the stage so hard that he had a bruise on his forehead for the next week, but all he said was, "Ow."

He blinked and then lay still for the rest of the scene until the lights went down at the end of the third act.

Then he came out and took his bows with the rest of the cast. The audience were going wild. They clapped even louder when Hunt took the stage.

Price became aware of a chant going up. "Why are they saying 'Otter, otter?'" he asked Chase, his seat mate.

"Not otter, author. That's you! Go on up there!"

"What, on the stage?"

"Yeah, come on!"

Price reluctantly got up and climbed the steps onto the stage, standing off to one side. When something came flying at him out of the audience, he ducked, expecting rotten fruit, but it wasn't fruit, it was flowers. They were throwing flowers to him.

Wow, they really did like him!

He took his bows with the cast, relieved that everything had turned out fine after all.

***

"See?" Chance said. "You were all worried over nothing. They loved it!"

"I guess you're right," Price admitted.

Just then, Trent came running. "I think we've found something!"

"What?" Len asked.

"I don't know yet. You need to look at this."

Len looked around at his brothers in arms. This was how it was meant to be.

"Let's go to work, then."

Just like old times.


	37. Epilogue part 1

Epilogue

Part 1

_(Author's note: This chapter and the ones following contain MAJOR SPOILERS for the series finale, so be sure you've seen that before reading. You can find it online at 4Kids dot com.)_

And so, the Kamen Riders united, and the power of thirteen was enough to destroy the evil General Xaviax once and for all. And thus there was a happy ending.

But stories never truly end. And some endings are also beginnings.

There was still much work to be done, even after the defeat of Xaviax. The rebuilding of Ventara would take months, if not years, even with all the structures intact. And to set right everything that Xaviax had done would also take some time.

Before anything could be done, there were explanations. They took turns speaking: Len first, then Kase, then the others. Even Maya and Trent filled in their part. Kit was the last to speak.

"I'm just happy to be here," he said. "I'm honored to be a part of this."

"Wait, wait," said the young man with the Camo symbol on his jacket.

"Yes, Van?" Eubulon said.

"So all of us have mirror twins? People who look just like us, and have our exact DNA sequence?"

"Yes."

"So where are they?" asked Kamen Rider Sting.

"They were sent to the Void. I retrieved them, and they're in a secure location until I can take care of them."

"And by take care of them, you mean . . .?" Trent asked nervously.

Eubulon smiled at him, to put him at ease. "I'll erase their memories, and put them back where they were before Xaviax recruited them."

"They won't remember anything?" Maya asked.

The Advent Master nodded. "It's for the best. They can get on with their lives, and hopefully become better people in the future."

***

"Hello!" Drew kept pounding on the door but nobody came. "Anybody out there?" he called through the glass.

"Give it a rest already." James was sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him. Being locked up didn't bother him; he'd been in prison before, and he was expecting to be sent back. Floating around in a sea of nothingness, though . . .

Richie Preston was pacing around the twelve by twelve room. "Don't we get a phone call? I want a lawyer! A real lawyer. I want to talk to my dad. I want--"

"**I** want you to shut up!" Grant snapped at him. "Between their fighting and your yammering, you're driving me nuts!"

"They can't hold us like this! It's-- unconstitutional!" Richie insisted.

"We don't even know that there is a 'they'," Danny Cho pointed out. "I don't remember how I got out of the Void. Do you?" He looked around the room. "Do any of you? All I know is, I woke up here."

"Maybe we're dead," said Brad Barrett, "and waiting for our final judgment." He honestly didn't care what happened to him now. He had lost the one chance he had to get his old life back, and there was nothing left for him. If he did get out of this room, where would he go? What could he do? Racing had been his life, and . . . that was gone.

"Sounds like punishment to me," Drew grumbled. "Stuck in a room for all eternity with you losers."

"Hey, I'm not enjoying this either!" snapped James. "I thought when I vented you, you'd be gone forever, not back to torment me!"

It was a testament to Xaviax's genius that not one of his Riders thought to band together and attack him. (Well, one thought of it, but he couldn't get the others on board with it.) He'd taken great pains to not only pit them against Wing Knight, but to ensure that they would spend too much time battling each other to rise up against him. He had trusted no one, and had not encouraged them to trust each other, either.

Way over in the far corner, Chris Ramirez sat by himself, ignoring the drama going on across the room. All he could think about was what he was going to say to his father when he saw him again. **If **he saw him again. He wondered why they were being held, and by whom, and if he could explain things to them. He sighed and looked up at the big, solid-looking, presumably locked door, wondering what was on the other side.

And then all of a sudden, the door opened, and a man in a black suit stepped inside.

"Which one of you is Drew Lansing?"

Drew raised his head. "That would be me."

"Come with me, please."

The others watched him go, without saying a word. For all they knew, he was going to his death.

***

Sitting there at a table was . . . himself.

Drew stared at the stranger with his own face, wondering what was going on here.

"Hey there," the doppelganger said. "Did you have fun playing with my toys?"

"Excuse me?"

"That big gun's quite a rush, isn't it? I love firing that baby."

"Yeah, it **was **kinda cool . . . wait, how do you know about the gun?" Drew looked at his double with some puzzlement. "Who are you?"

"My name's Chance. You and I, we're mirror twins."

"Mirror twins?"

"How did you think you were able to use the Advent Deck? Only someone with an exact DNA match could use it."

"You're saying we're . . . we're the same person?"

"More or less."

That was a disturbing thought. "How . . . how do you know so much about me?"

"We're a lot alike, you and I. Except for one thing." Chance leaned across the table to look his twin in the eye. "You don't care about anyone but yourself."

"That's not true!"

"Yeah? You were willing to sell out your whole planet, and for what? What did he promise you?"

"Anything I wanted."

"Right. As long as what **you **wanted didn't get in the way of his plan. I never saw two people who were so made for each other. The only thing is, he had the power to back it up, and you didn't."

"Did you bring me here to insult me?"

"No, just telling it like it is. You don't really trust people much, do you, Drew? Not that they've given you much reason to. They either walk away, just when you need them most . . . or they turn on you."

Drew was about to say something when he saw something in Chance's eyes that made him pause. He sat back and waited for his twin to continue.

"There's hope for you, Drew. Come and work with us. We can use a guy with your skills, you know. Put them to work for the side of good."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch. We're not like Xaviax; we won't blackmail you to get you to work for us. No strings whatsoever. You're free to walk out that door any time you want."

"But?" Drew prompted.

"But, if you do, you live with the consequences. Including, I believe, several warrants for your arrest?"

"I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, you've had to, haven't you? Cause no one else will take care of you. You've had to look after yourself most of your life. You don't need to do that any more."

Drew sat and stared at his mirror image, wondering what to do. Wondering if this was for real. He couldn't help thinking that he was more or less at the mercy of these unknown people, and he didn't like it. Not at all.

"Sorry," he said. "No deal."

He started to get up and head for the door, when suddenly he felt a tug on his sleeve and turned back. There was some kind of a bracelet clamped around his wrist. No, not a bracelet; a handcuff. And the other end was hooked around one of the table legs, making it impossible to move at all.

"Hey! What the--what is this?"

Chance shook his head sadly. "I did offer you a chance. Not my fault if you don't want to take it."

Drew's face took on a terrified expression. "Don't--don't put me back in there," he whispered. "Please."

"Back in where?"

"The Void. I can't stand that place. It's--it's like being dead. Please, please, don't send me back there!"

Chance's only reply was a huge grin that made Drew nervous. Then he said, "Oh, don't worry about that. We'll put you somewhere you'll be safe. How does prison sound?"

Drew could only stare at him in stunned horror as Chance got up and, chuckling, left the room.

***

Things were very quiet in the detention area now. Everyone was sitting and staring at opposite walls in sullen silence. It felt like a funeral, but they weren't sure who was dead.

When the door clanked open, all the former Riders looked up, expecting Drew's return, but it was another man in a dark suit.

"James?" he called out. "Let's go."

"What happened to Drew?"

"Don't worry about him, he's fine. Say goodbye to your little playmates; you won't be coming back, either."

James stood up and stretched, cracking his neck in that irritating way that meant he was getting down to business. "Bring it on. I'm ready."

***

When the door closed behind him, James realized he had been in this room before.

"Back again, I see?" said the man seated at the table, and James recognized him as the head of this nonexistent agency. "I didn't expect to see you again, but then, I guess since we last saw each other, you've done a lot of things I didn't expect."

James merely blinked and waited for the next move to be made. He didn't have to wait long.

"You remember what we talked about, the last time you were here?"

"You wanted me to join you."

"Someone with your skills could be invaluable to this organization. Plus you'd get to work with the most sophisticated intelligence analyzers on the planet, stuff that makes your old Toshiba look like a Fisher-Price toy. What do you say?"

James considered his answer carefully before he spoke. "I'm not a child who can be bribed with shiny toys," he said, his eyes locked on the other man's. "And I'm not selling out. I told you that last time, and I'm sticking to that."

"I told you what would happen if you refused. How did you like prison, by the way?"

"It's not so bad."

"That why you took the first opportunity you could to escape?" The agent shook his head. "You're just like your brother. Look where that got **him.**"

"At least I know I'll see him again." James was almost smiling, but the next words he heard wiped the smile off his face.

"I'm afraid not. See, after his latest escape attempt, your brother was moved to a maximum-security facility. So you won't be together. I'm sorry."

"Where am I going?"

"Someplace you'll never be able to find a way out of. At least, not for the next twenty-five years or so."

With that, the agent stood and escorted James from the room. When they were out in the hallway, someone called out, "Wait! I have something to say to you."

James turned around, and looked into . . . his own face. It was a strange feeling, not like looking in a mirror at all.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"You hurt my friend Maya. I don't like it when people hurt my friends."

James just shrugged. "Things happen. People get hurt. You get over it."

"Okay then. I hope you get over this."

And before anyone could stop him, Price drew back his fist and slugged his twin right in the mouth. James crumpled like a wet paper towel, and two agents picked him up and carried him away. James glared back over his shoulder, but said nothing.

"Oh my gosh, what just happened?" Maya had been busy with some paperwork when she heard the commotion and came running to find out what was going on. "What did you **do**?"

"Broke my hand, I think. Ow!" Price rubbed his knuckles and winced.

"You **hit **him?"

"He deserved it! He wasn't even sorry for what he did to you. Nobody hurts my friends and gets away with it. Ow, ow, ow!"

"Hold still for a second." She took a look at his hand. "I don't think it's broken. Maybe we should go put some ice on it, and talk about why you feel the need to go around punching people."

"I don't do it as a general rule," he said, as they headed for the kitchenette. "But he had it coming. He's a real jerk, and he shouldn't be allowed to go around using people like that."

Maya stopped and looked at him. "Thank you for defending my honor," she said. "You're a real gentleman, you know that?"

"In a good way, I hope."

"In the best way." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

***

Chris was the only one left now. The others had all been taken away, one by one (except in the case of the Chos, who left together), and had not returned. He wanted some answers, but the guys in the black suits must have gone on a long lunch break or something. So he just sat and waited, and wished that someone would come and take him out of here, or at least tell him what was going on.

He didn't even look up when the door opened, expecting to see one of the dark suits. But the footsteps approaching him sounded all wrong. The black suits wore hard-soled shoes. These sounded softer, like . . . sneakers?

"You gonna sit here all night, or do you want to get out of here?"

"Kit!" He looked up to see his friend standing there, a smile on his face. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Yeah, me too. So, are you ready to go?"

"Go? Go where?"

"To see a man, who's going to help you." Kit held the door as Chris got up and walked out of the room.

"Help me how?"

"I think I'll let him tell you that."

Chris looked up and saw another familiar face out in the hall. "Len! You're here too?"

"I never had a chance to thank you for saving my life. I was hoping to say goodbye to you before--"

"Before what? Am I going somewhere? And where are the others?"

"That's one of the things we need to talk about. There's someone waiting to see you."

"Who?"

"You'll see," said Len, and he would say no more until they reached a door at the end of the hall. He knocked once, and someone inside said, "Bring him in."

"What's going on?" Chris asked Kit.

"I'll let him tell you." He stepped aside as Len opened the door.

The room was about the size of a small conference room, but there was only one person seated at the long table. He stood as Chris entered the room. "Welcome, Private Ramirez," he said. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"Forgive me asking, sir," Chris said, "but what is all this? Why am I here?"

"All in good time," Eubulon said. "First, let me ask you one question: do you want to be a Marine again?"

Chris could only stare at him.

_(Part 2 coming soon! Stay tuned!)_


	38. Epilogue part 2

_(Author's note: And here it is, at long last! Thanks to all my fans for your patience. Vampiregirl, I'm working on your suggestion, and I think you'll love it! And don't forget that Season Two is coming! In the meantime, enjoy the heartwarming conclusion to Season One!)_

**1. The Cure**

"I don't understand, sir," Chris Ramirez said to the stranger who had summoned him. "The last thing I remember was . . . fighting . . . and Len was about to get vented, and I . . . I took the hit for him. I had to do it. And then everything went . . . kind of gray . . . and then I was in that room, with the others. What happened?"

"I found you floating in the Void, and brought you here until someone could come for you. I'm sorry to keep you waiting so long, but we had some things to take care of that just couldn't wait."

"How long was I in there?"

"You were in the Void for fifteen days." He read off the current date and time while Chris listened, wondering what had happened while he had been in limbo. It all seemed like a strange dream, and now that he was finally awake, he wasn't sure what was real and what was part of the dream.

"You must have a lot of questions. I'll be happy to tell you everything you need to know, but first, you're welcome to get yourself a cold drink." The man motioned to a soda machine behind him.

Chris realized that he was pretty thirsty. So he got up and went to the machine, digging in his pocket for change.

The machine didn't have a coin slot.

"Where do I put in the money?" he asked.

"Actually, you don't need to. Put your hand on that square of glass there." The man pointed to the right-hand side of the machine.

Chris did so. A synthesized voice said, "Welcome, Quinn Santos. Please make a selection." He picked a button at random, since he didn't recognize the names of any of the offerings listed. It turned out to be orange soda, and though he'd never heard of the brand, it wasn't bad at all.

"Quinn Santos?" he asked. "My twin?"

"Yes."

"Won't he mind that I'm using his account?"

"He knows you're here. You can talk to him yourself, if you want."

"I, uh . . . I don't know. It might be a little . . . weird."

"How weird?"

"You don't know my family, do you?"

"I might have some idea."

"Really? Like what?"

"Like, how much you feel you need to be connected with your father, and how you try to impress him even though it seems like he never pays any attention."

Chris stared at him. "How did you know that?"

"I can sense how much you need his approval, so much that you even put your life at risk to save others."

"Once a Marine, always a Marine," Chris said with a shrug. "It's what anyone would have done."

"That's not always true. It takes a special kind of person to do what you did."

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"I'm saying that you need to decide what **you** want. Not your father, not a hundred-year tradition . . . not even me. You are the only one who knows what you need. Think about what you want to do with the rest of your life."

He **had **been thinking about it, all along, and had come to the only conclusion that mattered. He sat up straight and said, "I **have** decided. I want to serve my country. I want to be a Marine."

"Whoa!" Kit, who had been sitting quietly while all this was going on, suddenly jumped up. "You could stay here. We could find a place for you. If you go back to the Marines, they'll ship you to Afghanistan or some place, and you . . . you might not come home."

"I know," Chris said. "I'm prepared for that possibility. I'll never forget what you've done for me . . ."

"You will," said Len. "It's part of the deal. It's what happened to the other Earth Riders. We wipe your memory and put you back where we found you, only in this case, new and improved."

"I can't remember anything?"

"I'm sorry, you can't," Master Eubulon said. "Now, if you're ready . . ."

"Can't you just . . . not wipe my memory?"

"I'll explain it to you once we're in the chamber. It's a bit complicated. I understand how you feel, but it must be done."

Chris sighed deeply. "Okay. If we're going to do this, let's do it. I'm ready."

"Can we at least say goodbye first?" asked Kit.

"If you're quick about it," Eubulon said.

Kit realized that this was it; this was the last time he would ever see Chris, and he had to make this count. "Good luck, man. Don't worry about the way things turned out. You are a hero, no matter what. And if your dad can't see that . . . then that's his problem, not yours."

"Thanks for believing in me," Chris said, "even when I didn't believe in myself." He didn't know yet what he was going to tell his dad, but he figured he'd work that out when he got there.

"You take care now," Len said. "We'll be watching you."

"You can do that?"

"Anywhere there's a mirror."

"Not in a creepy way," Kit said. "Just, you know . . . looking out for you."

"Thanks, guys." Chris reached out and gave Kit a quick tap on the back, and suddenly it turned into a long, moving, three-way embrace. Kit was reminded of when his grandparents had died, and his dad had come in and hugged him just like this. There was such a sense of finality, and he realized that they were never going to see each other again.

Master Eubulon stood waiting patiently through all the emotional displays, but finally he said, "We have to go now."

Chris pulled away and stood at attention, straightening his shoulders. "Okay, let's go, then."

They went into a small room, with no furniture except what looked like a dentist's chair, and a machine with a lot of wires coming out of it. Chris sat in the chair, and a technician started attaching pads onto his chest and neck.

"What does this do?"

"This is just to monitor you," Eubulon said. "The actual cure comes from me."

Chris was about to ask about that when the technician said, "Okay, take a deep breath in."

He sucked in air, trying not to overload his lungs.

"And now let it out."

Focusing on his breath, he felt Eubulon's hands on his shoulders, but he wasn't the least bit nervous about it.

"And another deep breath in . . . and hold it."

And suddenly everything went white, like a light shining in his face. He wondered for a second if he was dying.

Then the light receded, and he was sitting on an examining table in an ordinary doctor's office. The doctor was looking down at him with some amusement.

"Well, this is a first. I know I said to relax, but I've never had anyone fall asleep on me before."

"I had the strangest dream." He tried to remember it, but all he could see were random images - someone in red, fighting someone else . . . a huge wave of energy coming toward him . . . sticks. The sticks were important, but he couldn't remember why.

"Your ride's here. You can go now. I'll need to see you next week for a follow-up, but it's looking very good. Depending on how it goes, you could return to active duty by the beginning of next month."

"Next month?"

"You don't want to rush into this. Call me if you have any questions or problems. See you next week."

"Thank you," he said, and hopped down off the table. He dressed in a hurry and went out to the outer office.

His dad was sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs, flipping through an old _Reader's Digest_. He stood when he saw Chris approaching. "So, how'd it go?"

"Great. I'm supposed to come back next week, but he said it's looking good."

"That's great." They walked together towards the main door. "I was surprised to get the call from the front desk, telling me to come pick you up. Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"It's an experimental treatment. I didn't want to get your hopes up . . . in case it didn't work."

"Aha."

"Pop, can I ask you something?"

Sergeant Ramirez looked at his son with concern. "What is it?"

"Why is it so important to you that I be a Marine? I mean, I know about about Great-Grandfather Tomas and the tradition and all-"

"No, I don't think you do." He stopped and faced Chris directly. "Citizenship is a privilege, not a right, and we earn that privilege with service, and sacrifice."

"So, would you still love me if I wasn't a Marine?"

"_Hijo_, where would you get an idea like that? Of course I love you, no matter what. Is that why you did this? Because you thought I didn't love you?"

Chris struggled to explain. "I . . . had this dream. I . . . I died, and I never got to hear you say you were proud of me. And I didn't want to leave it like that. I just-I just wanted you to know-"

He was surprised when his father reached out and embraced him, something that hadn't happened since he was very small. "Don't ever feel that way," the older man said. "I'm always proud of you, as long as you do your best. Okay?"

Chris nodded. "Okay."

"Now let's go home and celebrate your miracle cure!"

"Sure," Chris said. He felt a lot better now, though he still wasn't sure why.

On the other side of the street, someone was watching.

"There," Len said. "See? He's fine."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Kit. "I just wanted to make sure."

"Can we go now? We've got a lot of stuff to do."

"I guess so." He took one last glance towards his former friend, wished him well, and then followed Len into a nearby window.

**2. Closed for Renovations**

"What is going on here?"

Maya jumped at the sound of a voice she never thought she'd hear again. "Aunt Grace? Where have you been?"

The older woman was standing in the doorway, suitcase in hand. "I went to Hawaii, on vacation! I told you about it weeks ago!"

"No, you didn't."

"Well, I left a note. It was right here on the counter - where's the counter?" She looked around. "Where is **everything**? What happened here?"

"We're, um . . . renovating." Maya looked over at the contracting crew that the No-Men had sent over. "You know, updating the old place. The Grand Re-opening is set for August 1st. The way these guys are working, they'll have it done in plenty of time."

The renovations had come about after a Kamen Rider fight almost destroyed the place. When the dust settled after the battle with Xaviax, Maya had reluctantly brought up the matter of the damage in the bookstore. She hadn't expected anything to come of it right away; both the Riders and the No-Men had bigger problems to deal with, she expected.

So she was surprised when she showed up the next morning and found a van with INDUSTRIAL CONTRACTING AND HOME IMPROVEMENTS just pulling up across the street. The foreman of the crew that had all piled out of the van explained that they had gotten a call the night before about a major remodeling job, and had been given the bookstore's address.

Maya, who hadn't planned to do much more than sit and work on her laptop for a while, had made some phone calls, and found out that Michelle - Michelle! - had hired the crew, and that the small matter of paying them was already taken care of. They showed up bright and early every morning, took only two breaks during the course of the day, and didn't disappear at the stroke of five o'clock like the last remodeling crew they'd hired.

"So this is all paid for?" Aunt Grace asked.

Maya nodded. "Wait till you see some of the stuff we're getting. Our business manager suggested we branch out into related merchandise - things like T-shirts, collectible figures, DVDs . . ."

"We have a business manager? The last time I had a business manager, she ran off with my money. And my husband!"

"Don't worry, Aunt Grace, he's really good."

"Well . . . okay. I guess you know what you're doing. I'll be in my office." Grace headed toward what had been the back room of the store, and was now a blank wall. "Where's my office?"

"This way." Maya showed her where the new, bigger store office would be. "They're supposed to be working on this next week. In the meantime, I moved the desk in here."

"Fine." Aunt Grace put her suitcase down, and sat behind the desk, looking lost. "I go away for a few weeks, and everything's different! Where's Trent?"

"He's, um . . . at his new job."

"New job? When did he start that?"

"A little while ago. He really likes it, though. It's something technical."

"Well, that's great!" Aunt Grace exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "I go on vacation, my store's torn apart, and half my staff has deserted me. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Actually," Maya said, "we've had 'Now Hiring' notices in the papers all week. There's a bunch of people coming in to interview tomorrow."

"Interview? We're hiring? How are we supposed to pay these people?"

"Once we re-open, all the new merchandise will bring in loads of business! Don't worry about a thing. We'll need at least six people to start with . . . and then once we put in the café-"

"Café? We're going to have a café?"

"All the best bookstores have cafes. And we'll need to set up the Wi-Fi connection-"

"Wi-Fi? What Wi-Fi?"

"It'll bring in more business. People will come in to check their e-mail, and walk out with loads of stuff they hadn't even planned on buying. It's all part of the plan."

"That this business manager of yours came up with."

"The man's a genius. I can't wait for you to meet him."

"I'm meeting him?" Grace seemed almost panic-stricken at the prospect.

"Sure. He'll be here first thing tomorrow. He comes in every day to find out how we're doing. You'll like him, he's really cool."

"I need a few minutes to wrap my head around all this. Maybe a few days. Could you just let me sit here a while and think? I need to work this out."

"Sure, Aunt Grace." Maya stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"And bring me a mocha latte from next door!"

"Ours will be better," Maya said.

"I just need something familiar in front of me. Something I can recognize. You can do that, can't you?"

"I'll be right back," Maya said. "It's good to have you back, Aunt Grace. It really is."

"Yeah, well, I'm not so sure," Grace said. Then she put her head down on the desk and waited for it all to go away.

She hadn't been gone **that **long, had she?

**3. A Friend's Goodbye**

"You don't have to do this," Len said.

"I know," said Adam, "but I just feel like it's time. It's time for me to move on. There's so much more that I want to do with my life, and I just have to go my own way now."

"You'll always have a home with us," Len said. He put an arm around the younger man's shoulders. "We'll always be your family."

"I know," Adam sighed. "I don't want to leave, but . . . I have to go. You understand?"

"I think so. So when do we get to meet this Sarah?"

"I don't know. Soon, I hope."

"She's got to be some special girl."

"She is."

They walked together through the halls until they arrived at the entry hall, where the rest of the Riders were already assembled. Len went and took his place in the formation, leaving Adam standing alone.

Then Master Eubulon was there. "This is a day," he said, "that I hoped would never come. A day when one of us is leaving home."

Adam looked at the floor. He felt like a little kid again, being judged on everything he did.

"Adam."

He looked up, straight into Master Eubulon's eyes. "Yes, Master?"

"You will always have a home with us. Though you've chosen a different path for now, know that the way home is always open to you."

"I will."

"Please give me your deck."

Adam handed over the Dragon Deck, remembering the day he had first received it. It seemed so long ago now. He had been twelve years old.

It seemed like another lifetime now.

Master Eubulon took the deck and made a pass with his hand over it. A burst of red energy flared up and then faded away. This meant that Adam was no longer linked with the deck.

"Do you have anything to say, before you leave us?"

"I do." He stood back and addressed the group. "I want to thank you all for standing by me, even after you found out what I'd done. Thanks for being my family."

"You stay in touch, now," said Price.

"I'll try."

He walked down the line, not knowing what to say. Sometimes they said it for him.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Hunt said. "You proved your worth in the end."

"No hard feelings, man."

Chance found it hard to meet his eyes. "You take care of yourself, squirt. Stay out of trouble, cause I won't be there to cover for you."

"Are you crying?" Adam teased him.

"No, I'm not . . . okay, maybe a little."

Kase reached out and put her arms around him. "Goodbye, Adam. Always remember that we love you."

"Yeah, okay."

Then he was face to face with his twin.

"I'm sorry for what I said, before," Kit said. "You really did redeem yourself."

"Thanks." Adam smiled. "Don't let these guys go too hard on you. If they give you any trouble . . . you just give me a call."

"I'll do that."

Len was the last one in line, and it was hard to think of something to say to him that hadn't all been said before. Finally he just said, "Thank you. Thank you for being my big brother, even when I didn't deserve it."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You've more than made up for the mistakes you've made. Go on. She's waiting for you."

Adam nodded, and the two embraced. It was a long time before the two separated. That one gesture said what all the words in the world never could: that they were family, now and forever, no matter what. Kit felt a little pang of jealousy, in spite of himself. No matter how close he and Len were, there was always the reminder that Adam had been there first.

But now he was leaving. He bowed to them all one last time, and stood staring at the big, heavy door that led to the outside. A door that none of them had ever used before. But Adam was no longer a Rider; now, he was just like everyone else.

It was the one thing in the world that he had always wanted.

He reached out, put his hand on the latch, and pulled. The door turned out not to be as heavy as it looked. It opened all too easily, and he took one last look back before he went through it.

He nodded to the assembled Riders, and their Master. They nodded back.

Then he took a deep breath, and walked through the just like that, he was gone.

No one wanted to be the first to break the silence. They looked around at each other, not knowing what to say. It was Master Eubulon who finally spoke. "Well," he said. "Now that that's over, we have a job to do."

"What job?" Kit asked.

Eubulon smiled at him. "Why, curing your father, of course. And the others like him. Kase, Len, you come with us."

Both of them nodded and suited up.

"The rest of you have the afternoon off. Try not to have too much fun," he said, with a wink.

The lines of Riders broke up, chatting with each other in voices that sounded forcibly subdued. Kit grabbed his jacket and helmet and joined the others.

"Master," he said, "there must be other things to do right now. I mean . . . you don't have to do this on my account."

"You're worried that once he's healed," Eubulon said, "your reason for fighting will be gone."

"Well . . . kind of, yeah."

"Kit, your love for your father has been what's kept you going all this time, and that won't change once we're finished healing him. The lessons he taught you will stay with you for the rest of your life. It's the one thing you had that set you apart from Adam: you had someone to show you the way. He didn't, before he came to us."

"He never had any family?"

"Adam never really talked about his family," Len said. "I always assumed they died. Sometimes he would wake up in the night crying, and not want to tell me why. I wish he had told me."

"He's not gone for good," Kase pointed out. "It's not like you'll never see each other again."

"He must have had a really hard life," said Kit. "I never realized before just how lucky I was. At least I had parents."

Master Eubulon patted him on the shoulder. "Let's go get your dad back," he said.

**4. The Hospital**

There was no way they were getting in the front door. Kit had permission to visit his dad, but not to bring guests. They would have to find another way.

"There's a window around the back that we can use," said Len. "It's how I got in last time."

"Last time?" asked Kase.

"I came here once before. Kit knows about it."

"I remember you telling me about it," Kit said. "You didn't mention the fine details."

They looked around to make sure no one was watching before one by one, the four of them passed into the glass, and came out very close to the ward where Kit's father was.

"What do we do now?" Kit asked.

"Are there any mirrors in the room itself?" Master Eubulon asked.

"I don't think so . . . wait. There is one in the bathroom, but it's kind of small."

"We can do it. One at a time. You go first."

Kit didn't feel too confident about this, but he trusted the master's judgment. He took a deep breath, and then stepped into the mirror.

It worked. He actually made it out through the mirror that he would have sworn wasn't big enough for a person to walk through. He made a sign that it was safe, and the others followed.

It was the first time he had seen his dad since the day the No-Men had dragged him away, for interrogation. He'd thought they were the bad guys then, from the way they treated him, but it had turned out to be a test. In the end, they were all on the same side.

"Hi, Dad," he said. "Guess what? I finally found someone who can help you." He looked up at Master Eubulon and asked, 'How do you do it? Is there a lot involved?"

"No, there shouldn't be. A simple laying on of hands should do it."

"I'll go secure the door," Len said, and started to go.

"No," Kit called to him. "Stay. I want him to meet you. After all we've been through together . . ."

Len nodded, and came back to his side. "This shouldn't take long," he said. "Just wait, and watch."

"Should I go take care of the other patients?" Kase asked.

"Not yet," Eubulon said. "Once we're done here, we'll go together. It'll be faster that way."

He laid his hands on top of the man's head and closed his eyes. Kit couldn't see anything happening, but there was a low hum, like live power lines, and a shimmering in the air above his father's body.

Then his dad was looking at him, and really seeing him, for the first time in months. "Kit?"

"Dad!" He rushed over and threw himself into his father's arms. "It's you, it's finally you!"

"Well, sure, who else would it be?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe - there's so much to tell you . . ." Kit was at a loss for words.

Master Eubulon got Kit's attention by touching him gently on the arm. "Kase and I have other patients to attend to," he said. "We'll meet you back here when we're finished."

"Okay, thanks." He then looked over at Len. "You going with them?"

"No. I'm sure they can handle it. I'll stand guard."

"Just don't go too far away."

"I won't."

He took up a position close to the door, but not so far away that he would be out of reach if they needed him. Kit nodded to him, and then turned back to his dad.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked.

"Well . . . was I here, talking to you? Or did I dream that?" He looked around the room, trying to find anything familiar.

"Yes! You . . . woke up . . . for a few minutes, once. Not long ago."

"And you were trying to ask me something, weren't you?"

"Yes." Kit was nodding furiously. "Oh, Dad, I have so much to tell you . . . it all started when I turned eighteen and got kicked out of my foster home. I went home, and there was something sitting on the counter, and I thought it was from you. And then I met Len-"

"Len?"

At the sound of his name, Len came over with a questioning look on his face. Kit smiled up at him and then said, "Dad, this is Len. My brother."


End file.
